leave

a stranger in my dreams once asked me that timeless metaphysical question: who are you? in that moment we were seated beside each other on a rollercoaster, our feet dangling, our hearts open, making our gear-grinding ascent to the top. i looked at her. she looked at me. the thrill of our lives awaited us on the other side, the beginning of a chance season that poured possibilities into every breath. i can still feel the smiles that invaded our faces on that breathtaking rise, the voltage that ran through our souls. as i began to answer, everyone started screaming in nervous excitement, including her, whose words i could only make out on her lips: i can’t hear you. after the ride, she quietly disappeared into a sea of strangers and i soon found my way to a quiet bench half-taken by an elderly couple madly absorbed in the cosmos. they were waving to their grandchildren, a carefree lot of youths beaming off giddy smiles with ice cream smeared across their faces. “you forgot to ask her who she was,” this old man told me. but i was trying. he kept talking as if we had known each other for years, his eyes fixed fervently on the ride. “and how, young man, can you ever know yourself if you're always surrounded by the voices of others screaming out their opinions? to really answer that question, sometimes you have to pack your bags and leave”

(THE DIARY OF EDDY MOOD)
—jk montane