“We live in a culture where you are not given permission to be sad…there’s nothing wrong with being sad.” -Tim Ringgold
Fiction. Based on a True Falling Out.
by Mingjie Zhai
This journal entry is inspired by true events. Some of the characters, names, businesses, incidents, and certain locations and events have been fictionalized for dramatic purposes. Any similarity to the name, character or history of any person is entirely coincidental and unintentional.
Your parents had sunflower seeds at your funeral.
You were probably like me, thinking you could help the entire world on your own. You wanted people to see the world for it could be, not for what it is now. You saw the world of people dancing, smiling, having fun with one another, forgetting about grudges, about being right, and getting grounded back to love.
The girl you kissed threatened you during the #MeToo movement. She had written you off as a predator, after all the love, all the doing for her that you’ve done, after all the times you have sat next to her tears complaining about the mistreatment of her ex, you listened, patiently, quietly, and she missed the cues you gave her. You love her, and she made you out to be a monster.
It crushed you. And you took your life on Valentines Day as an act of indignation at the injustice of the world. You love so deeply, and you harden so hard from her accusations, her wounds projected onto you of her past that you can’t stop her from repeating with you. It’s a sick game. So you chose to exit.
“Jazz is what got me through,” he told me. I understood his depth, but I knew I couldn’t wish his pain away. He has to go at it alone the way I have to go through mine alone. I could only hold space for that moment when he reveals to you the depth of his knowing, his suffering, his wounds.
His burnt forearm. I wanted to kiss the pain away for him. I wanted to kiss him all over his face till the present moment tickled and he giggled. It was the way I had poked at him and the way he was poking at me.
“You’re a midget. Do they give you handicap signs for your disability?” he joked on FB messenger. I didn’t know how to respond. I wasn’t used to play.
“It says here, for those who are less than 4 feet 9 inches tall, must be seated in a federally-approved child passenger restraint system.”
“lol” I replied.
“You are driving illegally.”
“I deserve a handicap placard.”
I give him an emoji wink 😉
Then I added, “Or maybe you’re projecting.”
“You’re really a borderline midget.”
He puts an Emoji 😉 laughing with tears.
“You’re projecting,” I insist. And then I send him an article from psychology wikipedia.