exeunt loves

I thought I saw him last night.
PC walking along Davis Street.
I was so surprised I started following the direction he was going.
I called his name across the street and he turned his head to look back but kept walking.
For a second I was hurt he didn't stop to talk to me but then I realized he didn't see me because it wasn't him.
At least I'm fairly certain it wasn't.

It made me smile that my instinct was to run toward him instead of away from him.
Heartache has such a profound ability to heal itself.


I felt similarly when I discovered Mr. Volcano dancing amidst my thoughts.
It started when I received a message from some guy on Okcupid that looked like he could have been his brother.
It was eerie the similar details.
And finding his picture on my computer, I found his name even spilling out into conversation.
You must not be satisfied with your current relationship, a friend told me.

But that couldn't be true.
I didn't want Mr. Volcano or PC.
He just pressed his way through the deep recesses of my memory to be present in my actual thoughts.
I didn't want him there.

Who wants a ghost lingering, reminding you by its absence how much it does.not.care.?

And then, most comically of all, a man outside my lover's apartment, embodying the image of Narcissus himself.
I smiled with uncontrollable amusement.

All my lost loves seemed to be returning to take their final bows.
Like some montage at the end of a movie, where each character is shown again, like some final stamp affixing each face to the screen.

Maybe they needed to exit in finality so this new story I'm in could be free to play out.
Because I'm no longer in a new chapter.

I'm in my fairytale.
The one where I'm a real princess.
The one where the ending is unlike every story before it.