srsly.

You said that your insides were falling out and that you wanted to "be somewhere" and I knew exactly what you meant. Though, not exactly since, if there's anything we learned from James Agee, it is that I know you only as I can know anyone...as a person, and that is my truth, albeit subjective. "It is simply an effort to use words in such a way that they will tell us as much as I want to and can make them tell of a thing which happened and which, of course, you have no other way of knowing...It is one way of telling the truth: the only possible way of telling the kind of truth I am here most interested to tell." But that made me feel sad then to think about these things with you, (as it makes me feel sad now to remember) you and me frequently blowing our minds as they grew to grasp notions of reality and cultural constructs and college education revolving around Franzia mixed with orange juice and how, no matter how well we can know another person, and know ourselves, we still never know exactly the truth of "the other," no matter how many times we sat on the porch with that other, or even if that other saw us cry.

And so when you said that your insides were falling out, I imagined you feeling scared and excited; panicking against your better judgment, but being excited against your will and longing for your connections, friends already cultivated and growing and reaching. "Wait, what?" you might have said. I imagined you sitting lonely at the Bangkok International Airport (isn't it strange how we can feel our loneliest surrounded by thousands?) with your things you had packed for the next four and a half months -- a journal and a pen, books, some sensible shoes, a dress you made, maybe, and some hand-crafted jewelry your sister made -- and i wanted more than anything to share that mindfuck with you. Maybe our insides would have fallen out together in, what I can only hope would be, a similar fashion.