I can remember those long days driving in your car. I sat in the passenger seat and pressed my face to the glass. You would speak to me; ask me how I was doing, as we made that three day drive back to Milwaukee, back home, where I freeze to death in the wet summer heat. I knew I would be going back to the hospital, back in Madison, where they sent me just a year ago and said I would change. Maybe I wanted to go back, I thought, maybe I wanted to hide away for another season, miss another year of school. Maybe it would let me drop out of school instead of flunking out. Maybe it would exculpate me from this goddam vacation I ruined. Maybe it would give me an excuse for being impotent at twenty-two years old. Maybe it would give you a reason to dump me like you should have the last time. I have changed, I guess. I’ve learned that coping and healing are two different things.
No comments:
Post a Comment