Skipping stones: an existential crisis

Mindlessly, we kicked our legs back and forth sitting on the chair. How many times had we gathered around here just to sit and make peace with ourselves. We never said anything besides static between conversations. Did you see how high the winds were? This year I’m done letting people walk over me. How have you been?
I know how it’s been with you because I’ve been the same, once happy and then distraught. Our emotions tethered behind us and we let our rags wrap up our arms as to hide our scars. We’re really tired of trying to pinpoint our whole lives but we continue to do so.
Mindlessly, I stared into distance. Everything began to blur and the colors collided into one another. They looked the same as when someone takes their glasses off. The whole room is fuzzy and while you can make out the couch and the windows it’s not the same. I knew this summer would be like the rest, a temporary high.
Our days became numbered, as we counted the years off of our fingers. I envisioned how this year fled away from us and the next five years were too close. I wanted things that I felt I wasn’t ready for but I wanted them still. I wanted them to feel right and fill the holes in my life right. All of these things I spoke of with you during the static. Our silence said a lot about us and our dreams formed haphazardly. We drew near to the river, skipping stones across the pond that seemed much deeper when we were kids. Sometimes during the humid nights, we waded out holding our pants and skirts above our navels letting the cool water envelope us. I wanted to shiver off my fears, watching them fall around me.
Between our white noise,  I said to myself more than I ever had whilst speaking.

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