Review Summary: I’m sorry
Remember camp? It’s been years and years and it has never left my mind.
Do you remember the day we met? We bonded almost immediately over our shared music taste because you saw me listening to PVRIS and MCR and Green Day and Refused (you were staring at my screen for a really long time) and
The Maine and you were still in college and I was still in college and you were still punk and I was still emo and
we ain't got no time for what tomorrow brings and the choir sings.
Do you still remember the smell of that computer/living room? It used to rain a lot and I never knew the smell of wet wood could be so overpowering, and we’d step out because it was 28° C and talk and walk in the rain and I stared at your drenched figure and you stared right back and that was the first time I ever saw you as
unashamed and (naked). okay all over, void of all composure.
I remember standing next to you at the river, hiding with our phones because we were not supposed to have them still and me sharing my data because your European phone did not work in America but my Mexican one did, sending to your family all those funny photos I took of our adventures and you showing me the responses that I laughed at even thought I didn’t understand a single word of your language and
I was unsure of everything but I knew, that I only wanted to talk to you at that moment and that was more than enough for my heart.
Do you remember the campfires? We just sat around for hours and hours talking and laughing and talking and
not kissing and
not loving each other and
not in just another lovesick afternoon while the fire overheated us because it still was 28° C even when it’d get late and we didn’t need it but the
aesthetic need was just so strong, only to have to put it out quick because we weren’t doing anything against the rules but frowned upon it still was, and we ran and we ran and I ran ahead of you that one time and I saw you come down running while your everything moved
and moved and I thought
let's go to a place where we can forget, we haven't left the room yet because how could I not? I was dying.
I stared right into our eyes through my lens, remember my camera? Remember how that other person explained - as if I wasn’t there - that half the time I used my camera not because I wanted to take pictures but because my anxiety would get the better of me and I couldn’t talk without awkwardly laughing at everything and just seeing your face through the lens would make it unreal and
not mine and bearable and
dizzy, drunk, and beautiful so much I wanted to do anything to make it mine.
Remember the kitchen, still? We would turn on the sound system and be laughing and singing and dancing and
not loving each other and laughing at the camp kids that would mess up their clothes with the food immediately and screaming our asses off to
”Do you remember the other half of 23? all lit up together, full of guts and dopamine, invincible or so we seemed” even though we were still 21 and 22 at the time so it didn’t make sense because the only thing that did was that you were so
complete free from your worries and I was/am so disgustingly trans that I never deserved a single inch of your attentive love.
Do you still, still remember the pool? We’d go not because we liked it that much but because
we'd leave the lonesome heat behind and you would wear that bikini and I’d stare that time not because you were
golden (I had hopelessly fallen already by that point) but because I confessed to you that I was incredibly jealous of every girl that could wear something like that and I couldn’t. And you laughed that one time and told me that one day in the future I’d be able to wear something like that too and that, that cheered me up like nothing else.
Remember the weekends? We’d go to Walmart and buy so much junk and we’d go to the house and stuff ourselves so much and watch movies and listen to music and talk and get
stoned a time or two and dance! And that time that she and her girlfriend left us all alone because
they knew and everyone so obviously
knew and
I wanted to let go with you and you were saying
”we should sleep right next to each other, it’ll be fun!” as if you and I didn’t know exactly what that meant and I was excited and you were excited and I ended up cowarding out at the last minute because I hated every single moving part of my body that god gave me way more than I could have ever loved you.
Remember how I could never stop the nightmares? I used to sleep with that box cutter right next to my bed every night and dream about so much blood on my arms and wrists and thighs and you would worry that I’d get found out again, because it was almost impossible to explain the injuries on my legs to the nurse after they got infected that one time.
Remember how after that first time, you’d accompany me to take my meds everyday and sometimes/always I’d sing the lyrics to
Black Butterflies and you’d sing the lyrics to
Taxi, and I’d stare right at your cherry lips that you’d bite so much when you’d get anxious and think about how much you singing
You'll never be lonely, don't you understand? You won't be alone again meant to me, like you had memorized every single spilled-thought-turned-spilled-ink line in my diary about my love/your hate of my bloody habits, and how much I wanted you to kiss the traced lines and you turned that into your own bloody habit.
this album means every single thought that you ever were
I love you
