Lost In a Fishbowl

Lost In a Fishbowl





because she didn’t believe in the idea of benism. Now that I think about it, I have to sit and wonder why I too believed it. Was it because Ben was an idol, a god, a martyr for the nerds and losers of the world? No—probably because he has his own religion. Who else has that? Jesus.

After her moving away, I felt a little pain inside. It was like a jagged piece of glass had forced its way into my chest, situated between my heart and my soul. She didn’t move too far away, but far enough that the glass sheens whenever I think about her. Fortunately, I can visit her every weekend—it’s not as bad as I made it up to be—but it still hurts to know she’s 20 minutes away.

From benism grew friendship, from friendship grew icecream at Coldstone Icecream, a mere 20 minutes away. You’ll always wonder whether benism is a cult classic movie, a way of life, a dumb idea, or perhaps a made up characterization of a boy in school, but I’ll know what it is! You won’t. Ben is a god, lower case g, mind you scholars.

I still remember the red Honda running the stop signs, in an urgent manner to pick me up, so that I was never late to the ‘appointment’ I had. I knew, inside, my appointment was to ride with her in a car for 15 minutes. Did I love her? Yes—but a life-long love that you never acknowledge. For the lonely person begging for attention and care, this would be excruciating and never being able to express their feelings would be internal agony—but I don’t love her like that.

Many years ago, I met with her again. She was more than 20 minutes away, the glass situating as not to get too uncomfortable whilst piercing me, which did not hurt as much as knowing she was married. The wonderful, guiltless love that burned for years before, had been smothered by the thick, rich accent of a blonde haired Brit that cared not for rules, but more for ladies in leather—and my girl. My girl doesn’t seem like the right words, but what else would she be besides that? More than a friend, less than a lover.

As I met the couple for a lonesome dinner, my side being the vacant side, the split, the void, I sat there wondering what would have happened if I had never been guided by you. I remember looking up at you during desert, for the last time, as you mentioned my driving ability being lack luster compared to hers. It registered, but in my mind I was gone, off in a sanctum of silent resolve. I mouthed Do you think, if I met you earlier in my life, we would have been friends?

Her hair whipped around as she looked. A tear trickled down the side of her nose, dodging freckles as it reached for the ground, was the only sign that



page 87