she looked at me and said, “you did it. you got out.”
we don’t often have serious conversations, and when we do they’re short, but they always cut so deep.
“it’s not the way i would have done it, definitely not the choices i would have made, but you did it.”
we don’t often look at each other either, but that night she looked at me.
i tried to play it as a joke like i always do, “i’m not sure i would make these choices again anyways.”
but i mean it. like i always do.
we went back to finishing our makeup and choosing shoes for the night out. watching queer eye when we got back and tearing up over the firefighters.
she was the only one who ever visited me there.
now it’s six years later and she got out too. i mean she really got out.
she lives in a beautiful state in a beautiful house with beautiful dogs and a beautiful boyfriend.
and i don’t think i got out anymore. i don’t think i ever got out. not really.
i live in a hot state in a cheap apartment. but i have a beautiful dog too.
we don’t often see each other. but when we do, we are still 19 and i still have hope.
i don’t often think i can get out, but when i do, it’s because of her. and what she said. and how she said it.
maybe one day she will say it again. and i’ll look at her.