freefall is a section in weight of words for masturbatory, practice writing, random quotes and pieces of poetry. similar to a tattoo where an artist sketches an outline first before the very illustration, freefall is an outline of either beautiful or monstrous sets of words to come.
the epistolary style used here has been used by poets and musicians. i have come across several and two of the most unforgettable are alanis’s unsent (“your face comes up with a vengeance like it was yesterday”) and barbie almalbis’s dear paul (“you make a girl insane, paul” which for others fond of misheard lyrics hear it as “you make a girl in st. paul” as if the school were a factory which in turn begs the question of labels and sexuality and gender, etc. etc. etc.). i wanted to write a similar piece entitled “dear dears” for my M.A. class, but i am sure the piece will come out raw and unforgiving, and it may not be a sturdy piece for the inevitable carnage.
dear dears draft
dear ___, i am listening to the song you recommended. it was your anthem back then when things were rough and you were lost. it became the third most played songs in my iTunes for a time. every time i listen to it, there is a thud within me, and i think, this must be like how you felt — having a piano landing on the center of your ribcage, and no one catching even a squeak of the fall.
dear ___, ola! what happened to our plan of redecorating my place? to be more specific, whipping magic to hide the blemishes and expand my space? so much has happened that i could only send you a text with this “ano na, 10 years na! haha” line. remember the time we met up, and we talked about your loves, and my words and i ganged up on you? i would forever remember you walking away while i was being driven away. i wanted to embrace you and tell you they’re all the same and you are different, but the light was green, and my hands were cold.
___dear, there’s a line from a song of alanis that says, “you rocked my world.” you did but not in the beautiful sense. you rocked my world because you jarred me, shifted the plates, and left cracks here, here, and here. i used to be really angry at you because of the way you revealed certain facets of myself i never knew existed. like caring. like remembering. when i remember you now, i can only imagine parts of you. i would have wanted to remember your voice, but even that slipped into fissures. now i am back to where all my limbs, organs, and my thoughts choreograph themselves to forget you.
dear __, i know what you liked about her. those things are the ones i liked about her, too. when i found out you two were hanging out, i was waiting for the train to arrive. the platform felt too narrow as if i were on a balance beam. i wanted to puke, but i hadn’t eaten, and i didn’t want to be fined. we could have had fun the way we did before. you would talk in that high pitched voice of yours and whine about your sisters and about your dad (seriously, we should grow up and start living our lives on our own terms). when things would become serious, we would fold into ourselves just like what we did, and we would listen to the echoes of our conversations, content when it comes to recycling stories. i don’t know what has become of you. i don’t know if i want to know more. my place here on this balance beam is satisfying. it is easier to whip out my arms for balance than extend them toward you.
listening to: falling or flying by grace potter and the nocturnals