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Sometimes I think back to those days, my childhood in Playground. It's painful. All of it. From the cruel beginning to the harsh end.
I do sometimes miss Craterdust. I miss the familiar, metallic smell of the air. The dirt. The way the sun found a way to shine just in the morning and afternoon, how if you climbed high enough you could get two sunsets; when the sun dips below the highest buildings and lays the city in shadow, and when it finally sets below the horizon.
The wind that found its way into the city always brought a hollow chill to it. It was somewhat warm but not in a natural way. When you were tired and sweaty, it cooled you down. But when you clung to your clothes in the early morning and afternoon, it would blow in with the sun like it was made out of sunlight itself.
But I don't think I could ever go back. Not even visit. It's too different now, from what Skate and Coil have said at least. I don't think the sun shines down like it did before. The buildings have been built too tall, and any amount of starts we used to be able to see are probably choked out by neon lights and smog.
I guess it's not horribly different than Crossroads. But at least that's all I've ever known here. I didn't have to watch my childhood home slowly rot and corrupt itself. This place was already fucked when I came here, I guess that's how I knew I fit in. But now, at least, it seems I've found ways I can make it better. In my own personal world. Maybe if we do enough we can change Playground too. I think he can do it. He's already proven that he can do anything he stubbornly decides on. Maybe with his connections and his family he actually can.
But it's still no home for me anymore. I left it years ago and I'll never go back. I think about it often but I can't face it. I can't face knowing what has happened to it, or to you.
I left you along with everything else in that place and I never want to think about it.
You were the best thing about that place and you make the memories so much worse.
Maybe we were always set to ruin eachother. Though I think I did most of the ruining. I caused that day to happen and I made myself run away...
But you didn't help. And I'm not gonna let myself linger on that.
I hate those memories and I hate you and as much as I miss you I hope I never know what happened to you.
I hear stories, from the others, and I can feel a presence in their stories they recount to me where it feels like you'd fit so perfectly. An empty space that perfectly matches the curve of your horns and the frizz of your hair. That jacket that you took care of like your greatest treasure and the scar on your knee from where you cut it open hopping over a chain link fence with me after I picked a fight with someone I shouldn't have. Your voice laughs higher than the others despite talking below them, and you tap your foot on the ground because you like to count the beats of silence in the lulls between conversations. You hear them all clammer on about their dumb, risky ideas of fun and you're the last person to stand up and follow them out the door but the first person to pick them up and carry them home.
I hope they never mention your name. I'm so horribly selfish and I'm sorry, but I hope to the Gods you did die that day.
You are the greatest friend I ever had and I never want to see you again.