and that is you it's been you. all along. why am i realizing it now? a few years ago might have been nice. curse my bad timing.
it's funny isn't it? how i was only around in the first place to help you get over her my best friend who shattered your heart because i couldn't stand the way she ended it couldn't stand how hurt you were over her when she didn't deserve you in the first place
i can't remember the last time we mentioned her name. now it's you. it's me.
yet...she hovers like a ghost between us. it's tiring.
"i’ve got a stomach full of Xanax. I took what was left of the bottle. It might have been too much. This isn’t a for-real suicide thing. This is probably a cry-for-help thing. So you’re staying in tonight, then? Do you wanna wait and hear me describe death? Do you wanna listen and see if my spirit can use a phone? Have you ever heard a death rattle before?"
fact: my favorite author is Chuck Palahniuk fact 2: my favorite book by Chuck Palahniuk is Fight Club therefore: i love the movie Fight Club
i got a late night phone call the other day from an old friend. we go way back into elementary school and i was actually a bit surprised to hear from her since it's been a few months since the last time we talked. we carried on for a few minutes asking the general questions when she asked me if i remembered Suicide Hill.
Suicide Hill was just a big hill where if you took the energy to climb, you could get a pretty breath taking view of the whole town. i don't really know why the place was given the name Suicide Hill; as far as i know nobody has actually jumped-although now that i think about it, it wouldn't be a bad place to jump off from. for the next hour or so, we remembered all the times we spent there. how we would go up there on Saturdays to go paint balling with the guys, and how on the nights we were feeling especially rebellious we would gather up there to smoke and laugh. we talked about the 4th of Julys we passed up on Suicide Hill watching the fireworks from all over the town and how we once spent an entire night up there with sleeping bags just because we could. we also talked about the hours spent crying on Suicide Hill. sitting on that lone bench placed at the top, sobbing about how you had your first and last kiss on Suicide Hill. About how that boy broke your heart in 30 seconds flat and how we should have listened to our mothers when she told us that he was a bad seed. my friend and i had a moment of comfortable silence towards the end as we were both lost in our own thoughts of the place. we casually mentioned that back when the gang was all back in town we should go back up there for old times sake. i agreed with her but i think we both knew that it wasn't going to happen. that nobody would want to hike up there when they could be cruising to LA for a wild night out. Suicide Hill was a place of our childhood, and no matter how fondly we remember the place...it just won't be the same. but maybe this is the way it should be. there's no reason to chase the past.
True
