a single mitski lyric

i was careful not to think much of it. the moon is in perfect view through my 12th-floor window, hanging unusually low, and mitski on the macbook sings “you're my best friend and now i have no one to tell, how i lost my best friend”.

i don’t understand why but it really felt like grief would be easier to cling to. at 15, in central london, i threw up in your hands. i despised school. during lunch break, we would play the same song and study every line. we went to town just to sprawl on those stairs and if the skater boys scowled, we made damn sure we stayed longer. you laughed at everything. i didn’t know who i was and i worked so hard to suffice. i still don’t know who i am except now i put all my effort into letting things be rather than turning them into suction or scrutiny.

we would go to the froyo place after class and we went a final time the day it closed down. i fumbled so many birthday gifts and you always got mine so right. you came to my party last year, the one i spent too much time on and got too many people to come to. i felt abundantly loved but in retrospect, it was more of just a lacquer, an adorning thing i can gaze at for consolation. on my 18th, we sat by the river drinking 7-11 peach liquor and on the train home, i felt invincible. we would spend hours trying to make sense of our mothers only to end up crying. indisputably, i was an angry child. i’m even angrier now but i’ve stuffed the rage down all the way to my calves and i think i need it to walk the weeks.

the last time i saw you, 6 months ago, we took a boat to the beach and bobbed in the waters. you packed us a really nice lunch that i still think about. i had always wished you talked more and shared everything but you were unhesitantly quiet. you never sought out moments for the stories they would meld and i’ve always admired that. you intrigued me. even the way you ate nacho chips was so intentional. i itched to move with such purpose and measuredness but i didn’t even know where i wanted to go. sometimes i pretend to be a little angry at you, not out of anger but out of necessity. i dreamt of you some days ago. i’ve spent the biggest slab of my being with you and i never considered a life so separate.

we were 2 girls who gave no fucks when the rest of them were busy fitting in, because we had each other. when i look at it all together - the years, my text, a sky now moonless - i think that may have been the most quietly-profound romance of my lifetime.