A Bunch Of Things About You That Are Probably Stupid

Adam Birkett

I am awake and listening to “Lullaby” for the 70th time this night. I have it on loop and feel like my computer is judging me. It’s the only sound I can stand. I turn it off and try something else but my heart starts screaming and it’s disturbing. I put it on. Natalie Maines begins to sing in that gentle, soft way, her sweet twang picking up whenever the hook hits. Everything else is quiet again.

I wonder if you ever listen to it.

Probably not.

I haven’t had sex in a year and you were shocked when I told you. You asked how I’ve survived and I laughed, “I don’t know, it’s not a big deal.” I guess I’ve never needed people the way you do. I love love, but I don’t go searching. I don’t need a body in my bed or a person texting me good morning all the time. I would rather remain alone. I would rather lone wolf it. Until there’s someone, someone like you, I can’t imagine being anywhere other than in my life. All the time. Here. Here. Here. 

I still have that red wig. I can’t put it on without remembering Bridgette, my alter-ego. I was so mad that you wanted to fuck her. You grabbed my shoulders, half frustrated, half entertained at my jealousy. “SHE’S YOU! I WANT TO FUCK YOU!”

I’m afraid I actually am the Manic Pixie Dream Girl. Meaning, I’m not real. Meaning, you wanted me during the movie, but I’m not who the main character settles down with. I still dance when no music is playing and write about my feelings on the internet and maybe men just outgrow me. You’ve got a fancy job in a fancy city and an apartment you live in all by yourself. I’m 25 and just now finally figured out how to cook.

What happens to the Manic Pixie Dream Girl? Does the love of her life marry an accountant? Does the man she played ukelele with as a teenager decide it’s better to buy a house with Beth because she’s good at budgeting?

Is passion not sustainable? Is it better to barrel forward with a proven thing?

I can’t forget the last conversation. I think I cried so hard, I didn’t have any more room to miss you after. It was like something in me died. I woke up with a swollen face.

I think the part I’ve been saving for you died.

There’s a chance we’ll never talk again. I leave it up to you.

But I know, we were full of good. Even when it wasn’t easy, there was so much good. Even now, all I can think of is the good. TC mark

Ari Eastman

✨ real(ly not) chill. poet. writer. mental health activist. mama shark. ✨

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