Peter Pan 30 September

His

Our entire relationship is cinematic. Each memory is its own scene. The scenes are not dictated by us, but are only the result of continuously rolling from a variety of cameras. While vivid, our individual memories are not enough for us to see everything from each angle; only through our collective memories is this attainable. We have a connexion, one through which each other's thoughts are strongly channelled. Our suffering is the same. Our joys are the same. The fears we share are worries that only we know of. We tell each other:
Darling, You're My Darling
Our romance has transcended three time zones, three countries, four bedrooms, five hour bus rides, and began with the intentions of only lasting six-weeks. There is a camera to my left, even as I write this. The mise-en-scene would end up something like this:

• The camera to my left shows me writing, or thinking, or rummaging through my bag as a voice-over of my own voice reads aloud what I'm writing in here.

• During this, the p.o.v. alternates between shots of me on the bus, and shots of you waking up, getting dressed, walking to school and passing the bench on which I sat, only ten minutes earlier

Do you see? I know that you already do. Perhaps this description is really for myself. That is, maybe the reason I am writing this now is so I can practice putting how I am thinking into words. Most of the time, though, there is no need for either of us to explain this phenomenon to one another; we tend to understand and accept that our romance is sometimes comedic and at other times painfully sentimental. There are several major scenes which I feel construct the basis of our relationship. Not scenes, rather, but perhaps chapters, or acts. As a means to remembering everything, I am going to list these events chronologically.

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Before I do, I need to remember that I am on a bus from Springfield to New York City. Everything before now was written on a bus from Amherst to Springfield. Before boarding this bus, I threw up twice. My stomach is in my throat and I am fairly certain that I now know what a panic attack is. Noises startle me. I have never felt so alone as I have been feeling on the days when we are not together. Think. Remember.