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I ask if our palms are painted red or stained by an overreaction by misunderstood circumstances.
The lack of justice in the great world forfeits us the opportunity by having to choose sides.
When I tap your shoulder to point out change, I hope you don’t turn your cheek because you have been bruised before.
For every dark, it reflects light.
Do you ever wonder about the scale and balance of life?
Why do you hurt someone else’s happiness?
Sit, and I will show you my heartbreaks.
I’ll pull out all my memories and share the timeline of my tears.
Beautiful awareness happens when I acknowledge our life lessons aren’t to harm me but to heal you.
The night I lay awake and finish out, Phoebe’s song. “Great Basin, Great Sand Dunes, Great Smoky Mountains, Guadalupe Mountains, Haleakala, Hawaii Volcanoes, Hot Springs, Indiana Dunes, Isle Royale, Joshua Tree, Katmai, Kenai Fjords.” Her National Parks soothe me to sleep.
Where I find her.
I’ve been to so many places.
Met hundreds of people.
But the one person and one place I only think about is in you and standing next to your scars and broken hearts.
Phoebe told me once I wanted her sadness only to be the hero with the solution. But I just wanted her sadness to become my own, so we both might suffer together long enough to love together as well.
Chapter 20
Phoebe
22.9068° S, 43.1729° W Rio De Janeiro, Brazil
Mymotheralwayssaidthis was the best place on earth. But I guess she has never claimed a house as a home to be punished with the longing. I arrived yesterday, and I wandered around the foreign festival of culture and tastes. I walked along the beach, and then at night, when the city came alive, I pretended I was part of the community.
The sun was mainly sunny, a welcome gift to the intense city heat. But watching the waves makes the burn bearable. I don’t mind it; I like the stinging redness that grows on my skin. A reminder of living the good life if there was a definition for one.
I found a market near the hotel; they instructed me not to go beyond the outlined limits. It wasn’t safe, and I promised I wouldn’t. I am sure a dead American photographer isn’t the type of review they want. But I wasn’t scared when the producers asked me to go. I always like adventure, and most of the time, it involves risk, but more reward than fear can tell me it isn’t worth it.
Besides, it was for the weekend.
I get Enzo’s message when I am walking down the street.
My mom hates your stupid pictures. She didn’t like them up on the China chest in the dining room, so everyone who walks into the house has to see them. She didn’t even say thank you.
Tell her you’re welcome. And you can kindly fuck off. I laugh at Enzo’s message as I reply. He has been a sarcastic fool since getting out of the Navy.
I miss you.I don’t expect Enzo to say it, even if I feel it.
I know...I miss me too.Because I’m a smartass too.
When can I convince you to see me again?I try to brush it off; I don’t know how seeing him similarly will affect me, and I don’t know if I want to be entranced again with him.
Maybe when we die. You are still headed to hell, right?
I have been sinning my days away to make sure.
