Bierce

I'm back at Bierce today. Just because. Like all those things that happen to me. I'm back at Bierce by chance or destiny or whatever you want to call it. But I'm back.
And I'm right in that tiny study room you used to take when you needed to study. The same tiny study room in which I kissed you countless times and in which I discovered that I was still alive, where I discovered my blood still pumped fiercely down my body, where I discovered I wanted to live.
It's the same tiny study room to where I carted chocolate bars and smuggled soda for you. The same study room in old, 70's addled Bierce Library. The same tiny study room where we almost had sex. And I'm here today, half alive and half content. But here.

And I wonder if all that was not anything more than a quick dream. One of those dreams that leave you half-groggy, half awake and wondering if what you just lived was a dream or if what you just dreamed was actual life. Because so much has changed, so much has happened, so many people have been involved and abandoned and exchanged since I kissed you in this same tiny study room in Bierce that I often wonder what happened.

Time does not move here. Time can only be counted by the slight improvements they make to the library. Just like the tiny improvements I make to my life. But time does not move for me, either. Time for me, as for Bierce is both a reminder and a curse. A reminder that everything ebbs and moves depending of where you're standing. And if you are in this tiny study room, time has not passed.