marina bay

12.21.15

by marina bay i disintegrated. my first night back in the city it felt like i had never even left. but the last time i'd been there, i was eighteen, and there's a world of difference between that and twenty-one. the bay walk was filled with tourists. a couple was shooting wedding photos near the water. (don't slip, i thought.) my family's distinct chatter floated all around me, and still, i'd never felt so alone. it was dusk, which always gave me the falsest sense of promise. we sat to rest. (when will i learn not to fuck with the ikea on alexandra?) i pulled up hold still on my phone with the precise thing i didn't want to think about clouding my mind and skipped to one of the later scenes, the one where ingrid pretends to plan her future out with caitlin, knowing full well she'd be dead the next day. as the days passed i would walk through streets with my mother and nod along as she talked about flying to hong kong in the summer and all these things that sounded really nice. it was just that i didn't know where i'd be by the time that rolled around. and i missed her then, she was right there, i missed me, i missed ignorance. bodies of water draw me in, a constant among life's inconsistencies. i breathed it all in, always willing to. i can't remember if i cried.