“Chapters Were Written”

We remember where we were when we fell in love. We also remember where we were when it ends. J-Gigs–Giggles, in public, and Jiggles, in private–taught us both lessons.

It was the face at first; but it was the voice that did it for me. The way her tone would change. Giggly, fun. Sexy.

We yearned for us, immediately. Jet-black hair flowing. Hers would lay perfectly over her shoulders; in curls, they would bounce when the rest of her did; simultaneously caressing my head. And we got pregnant.

She wished her ex good luck, on his bundle of joy incoming. She expressed how much it was supposed to have gone the way of them celebrating theirs, together. Life scares people.

Being a writer is for people who are either out of their fucking mind; or, they’ve succeeded in some version of the rat race, allowing for life to give them the room and space, and amount of feel-good necessary, in order to create something that people actually want to read. It’s not for people with two children with secrets that are hidden in conversations with those who know, by street numbers; or by phrases that would make for good story titles. You catch your partner peeking at and participating in the world that pleases them. As a writer, drama is life. Living in drama, and writing life takes the honesty you can’t see, when you’re not wanting to see the reality.