i spend a lot of time on skype. so much, that i've developed a bitterness towards it. 'cause you can't touch anyone on skype. and when you close your computer at night, you're alone. and when you look at someone, they can't even tell. and when they look at you, you don't even know. you can't really see anything, just pixelated faces, mouths frozen or lagging.
yesterday i biked to the house i used to live in. i just biked by, quickly, because i saw mr. vaillancourt sweeping his drive and i didn't want him to notice me if i stopped. i wonder how old he is now. the entire street looked unchanged, but everything was. there was a mini statue of jesus in our old garden.
i rode past my elementary school, through the park and the trees i used to climb, past shannon's house, past shane's house, through the grass into the forest where the kids make mountains in the dirt to do bike tricks. the only difference between now and then is that the mountains are bigger now. i guess we are too.
if you had told me 7 years ago that i'd be here now, moved across the main street to a new house, making no eye contact on skype, i would have said what the hell is skype.
i'm moving again, too. or trying to. growing up is stranger than i thought it would be.
remember when everything was new, before this was a habit? i had butterflies in my stomach and shivers right to my fingertips. sometimes i can't believe this is real.
2 comments:
I, too, would have asked, what the hell is skype?
Great line.
anonymous: i think that means you like to learn.
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