30 Aug

For quite a few of my classes at University, I was sent to Revolution Books on South King Street for my course material. Parking was terrible, and it was always too hot and uncomfortable to walk when I had a boyfriend with a car. Right? The X took me there a couple of times between semesters, and well, that’s it. I meant for this to be some kind of awkward bittersweet story of the deterioration of our relationship, but I can’t remember it. I can still feel the general uneasiness of putting him in uncomfortable social situations like waiting in the car while there was another person in the bookstore parking lot sitting on a cooler, smoking a cigarette, but I’ve done well forgetting I guess. I’m already too concerned with myself to worry that the boy I’m with feels strange around other people or will pull over to yell at me for laughing and not understanding the way this situation was only embarrassing, and nothing else, when the plastic bag dancing above the freeway attaches itself to his car’s antenna and will not let go. I wouldn’t call it a turning point, but it was important that I realized then how crucial it was for me to be with someone who’d make me brave, free, and less afraid of the world.


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