The bus ride home was horrible. My iPod knows best when to fuck me at the right time. Your Call was on play and I swear Apple should do something about its song shuffling crap. The 10-minute ride then became blurry. I was holding it up so badly and I just smashed.
“And in this solitary moment makes me want to come back home”, I miss home it hurts. The image of my late grandmother grabbing my head then kisses my forehead emerged out of nowhere. Her smile was too sweet I always succumbed to expose the unnecessary. Is it so much better in the afterlife? I fell asleep in between a lousy text reply and forcing my eyes to stop bruising themselves.
The evening trip to Williamsburg then was a god-sent. Aida finally mustered her will to shop for the comme ci, comme ça ceremony. I napped the 20-minute journey while Brittney and Aida yapped. They scored me a navy blue polka dot dress just because I’m the only one who could possibly fit into an extra small size. How decent.
Monday then dissed me with its abusive inhabitant. Disgusted and disgruntled I clasp my hand in forgiveness. There’s no pleasure (ever) being slit with vulgarity. There shouldn’t be pleasure too forcing out vulgarity. The name-calling rings on ever since. Oh well.
This is when I crumble, just before you tumble. This is when my body degenerates, just before yours' disintegrates. This is when my mind shatters, just before yours completely splinters. This is when words are just words.
To my dear friend, be strong. We pray for your grandfather to be in His place of eternal merriment. "So glorified be He and exalted above all that they associate with Him, and in Whose Hands is the dominion of all things: and to Him you shall be returned" (Yasin; 83).
Have a merry May.
