Stories of the Lost and Found

He noticed her within minutes of his toes hitting the sand. How he knew that it was her he’ll never quite understand but there was no mistaking the pull on his heart and the sting in his chest. He had been back for months and he had yet to run into her. Not at the theater, the grocery stores, not even her favorite coffee shop. He knew she hadn’t left for he would have heard. The town loved to talk even when the words shouldn’t be said; always weaving their stories differently each time. It was like a disease but everybody loved the symptoms. He knew why she hadn’t been around: she knew he was looking and he knew she didn’t want to be found. When he came home he found out her mother had passed about a month before and she had slipped into a state of seclusion. Not entirely closed off, but she wasn’t here.  He’d left for the city nearly 2 years ago arriving home 3 months before. She had never left his mind no matter the time or day, what mood he was in or how the weather was outside...

He wasn't quite sure why she blamed him for the events that had taken place. He wasn't a scientist, he couldn't cure diseases or cancer. He wasn't a descendent of Dr. Grey (okay, I may be watching too much TV, be said to himself)  He was a mediocre, white-color male that had went through the same shitty year that she had but somehow he was forced to take the blame. He stomped around the empty and hollow house, knowing she could hear him below. He knew what she was watching when he heard the crash; he inwardly sighed. Most definitely a Jameson bottle. He remembered that last Easter like it was that morning. He remembered dressing them in their matching but different suits. They had let them pick their own colors, they were so smart. And then the bruises began, and the head complaints. And then the scans and the visits to the ER. It all happened so fast, like an avalanche. He knew why she blamed him. His side carried the gene but why would he have ever told her that? She ...

I’m hoping today is way better than yesterday. Each day is a work in progress for me but I’m finally out of my ‘funk’ that had literally consumed me, my attitude and the way I talked to the man I love.  In the past few months my sister has taught me a lot although she doesn’t know it. Between 20-23 is when you really start to figure yourself out. I’ll be 23 in September.  I’ve realized you can’t let people hold you back. I’ve had the same group of friends since high school and had never ventured out…. Why? Because my best friend can be a bitch and doesn’t like anybody. Point blank period. But the sad thing is I’ve realized we’ve grown apart but I’ll still consider her my best friend for life. Another thing, a lot of the people I thought we’re my friends, well, aren’t. And alot of the ones I was brainwashed into thinking were horrible, are fucking wonderful. I’m changing everyday and I love it. I’m becoming more me and not caring what people say. I’ve become closer with a girlf...

She sat there watching the clips flicker thru like a picture book. The boys' collars flapped and fluttered as they frolicked about the brightly colored grass. Their matching seersucker Easter suits, one yellow one green, making them unbelievable handsome. The twins were consumed with an illumination of joy; their faces like that of Angels. She closed her eyes for a second reminiscing and opened them only to wish she hadn't. Her eyes flashed, her ears began to scold; she saw him in the background. She took a swig from the Jameson bottle in her lap and hurled it at the old TV, shattering it into clumps of pieces. She could hear him upstairs, footsteps heavy on the what seemed to be completely hollow floors, and again, like most moments, she wished she could be free of him. He had taken her boys; she'd take his entire existence. 

Day 55  You told me that it scared you to acknowledge how much you loved me, you didn't want to get hurt.. That if it weren't for me you would be long gone ... Not in a mean way: you're blunt and honest with me. That scares me, I never want you you regret me or think I held you back. But still I said there was nothing to worry about, because there's not. I told you that I valued our relationship tremendously for you educated me everyday. And that all my life I've had temptation and you're the only guy that I've been completely and totally comfortable with, that my eyes are super glued to you and it's not a feeling I think I can shake (fluffed that that, Duh) You told me that it made you feel better, that you had insecurities too, and then you kissed me with the full, firhm lips I crave so often I hate being one of those girls, you know? Who are all oooo-ooo gaga crazy over guys fast but I've never been more content. Our lives work. You motivate me no...

Your eyes pierce through me like glass, leaving me breathless and always wanting more. I could sit with you for hours in a coffee shop, legs draped over you, with Hemingway in my hand.  But you don't drink coffee and I don't believe in love  

As she laid there with her head on his bare chest, watching the world go up and down with every rise and fall of his breath, she already knew this was the last time she would find herself here. The heart knows things before the brain can even comprehend them. She could hear the coffee percolating in the other room and she laid there waiting for the aroma to drift throughout the house, knowing she would stay in this spot long after it was done. She started to count the freckles on his chest while tracing the birthmark on his side, seeing the way he slept with his hands stuck in the edge of his boxers. She sighed. You don’t forget things like that, do you? It’s always the little things that stick with you, making your heart tug when you think about them. She didn’t love him though, she had realized that, but yet she couldn’t leave every time she tried. She had never loved any of them had she? Oh but she had. She’d loved them all but then she didn’t. That’s what scared her. You know when ...