Napkins

I’ve sat here all night trying to figure out what to say to you. And still, I am too shy. So I write my words on the back of this napkin, hoping that it stays long enough for you to notice. Not that I should be using a napkin anyway - although, it can’t get any worse, can it? The environment, I mean.

This feels stupid. And suddenly I feel like I’m in middle school again, passing a note to some kid I liked with the request for them to check ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ to being my boyfriend and send it back. Somehow, rejection wasn’t so scary then but we must have still been aware of it - or why veil the ask on a piece of paper. But good for us for knowing boundaries, no was an option, at least. I wonder if that would work in your case. I could have the bartender take the napkin down to you and let you circle one. That’d be kind of cute wouldn't it? I can’t remember if I ever got any answers back. You keep looking at me and I can’t tell if it’s because I’m looking at you or if you’re equally curious. This little dance we play. You look pretty thrilled by whatever you ordered, I hope that it’s delicious to you.

It’s amazing that we still have these kinds of places. The whole world went up and flames and still we find a way to drink. Tells you something about our motivations. But I think behind it really is the desire to connect. Drinking establishments only give us the social lubrication that we want to be able to connect more with each other. I stopped drinking when the big shift happened. I just couldn’t handle not being in control anymore. The big shift really took it out of me. I was inherently trusting of the world before which served me until it all went downhill. I would have walked up to you ages ago, maybe even chosen the chair right next to you before everything happened. Everythings different now. Life is so fragile. And there’s so much to say but language hasn’t developed enough to say it. So I'll sit here, writing you this letter and annotating my experience from this side while you either know exactly what I’m doing or have absolutely no idea.

I wonder about your life. What experiences you’ve gone through, what happened to you in the big shift and would you tell me if I asked you? Did you lose people? Well, we all did… so who were those people to you? And is that why you are sitting here now, alone? Suddenly it occurs to me that you might be having the exact same experience that I am. Suddenly it occurs to me that maybe we all are.

That old lady sitting with a young kid two tables away. There’s no laughing at that table. She’s looking at him with such admiration and love. He’s reading something to her and I can hardly hear her making small corrections as he fumbles through the bigger words. Even with the end of the world, it’s still strange to see a child in a bar.

And that guy over there, he looks about my age, what’s his life been like since then? Do you think he was afraid he would die? Or do you think he was more afraid of all the things he hadn’t said if he did? Most of the time I'm not sure which we’re more scared of.

And sometimes, I'm sure they are the same thing.

Even after going through what we’ve gone through, I don’t think we’ve gotten any less scared to say what is exactly on our minds. To bare ourselves in front of each other and let life take its course. You think we would take every chance we could get… But I actually think we say less.

So what makes life worth it?

I see your thumb and pointer finger holding a small locket chained around your neck. You’re gliding it along the chain, back and forth, back and forth. My mother used to do the same thing. It always meant she was about to say something she wasn’t sure she should say. I think the back and forth of the necklace reminded her of the lull of the rocking chair and after enough swings, she felt calm enough to reveal anything.

If I were going to gather the courage to talk to you. This is when I'd do it.

I've been a perfect observer of this moment. I want nothing more than to witness your spirit, your life force. I don’t know how you still have it. I am afraid I am too dim for you, that maybe I’ll end up dimming you.

In the before times, this is where I’d play a record on the old school jukebox to try to calm my nerves. I’d pick my favorite song, a pump up song or one that I could dance it out to.

Instead, I’ll crawl back into the tunnel to make my way home. Our new existence under the surface reminds me of all the mole rats we tried to stay away from. I wonder if over time we will start to go blind like them too. Will not being able to go outside cause us to evolve in suspicious ways? What’s unnecessary doesn’t make it through.

Did you ever think this time would come? I never believed it. They told us it would happen but I was skeptical. Do you ever feel guilty that we destroyed it?

You have the locket pressed to your mouth now, not as if you are kissing it but more like you are trying to leave an imprint on your lips. I wonder whose picture’s in there and if it feels like indenting them on your flesh brings them closer to you. Or maybe it’s more like the necklace from Cruel Intentions, man

What I would give to go see a movie. I wish they hadn’t used all the film to burn for warmth and fuel fires. The revolution was fought, and we lost. And they created something better. I couldn’t go, though. I couldn’t leave this place. A utopia in space didn’t seem... right. It didn’t seem like we deserved it. We had failed what we were given, I guess I needed to stay like a captain going down with the ship.

So all the rest of us who stayed… are we the guilty ones? The good ones? The doomed ones? All?

I just can’t help but think, would we all feel different if we sat together. Experienced this loneliness together.

Even through death and destroy and dissolution - we stay separated. We don’t know how to relate. Maybe there’s nothing to say.

I’m several napkins in. And I don’t know if you’ll ever get this. But I think I love you.

Forgive me.