How I wonder where you are

I know it’s not reciprocated, at least not equally. Sure, there’s
people out there who are wondering about me, but really, all it takes
is a Google search on "Aubrey" for them to find out that yes, I’m still
alive and kicking, to their delight or dismay. They can find out much
more than that, of course, but that’s best saved for another time and

I wonder about you – many of yous – wonder where you are
and how you’re doing. Losing touch is something akin to a tragedy in my
eyes, especially since we parted on good terms. I don’t miss you, per
se – couldn’t remember what about you I could be missing if I were to
do that – but yes, I wonder.

I know some of you are out there,
some pieces of my past, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant.
I know that sometime, somehow, you ended up here to look around out of
sheer curiousity and for some reason you stayed. You came back. You
COME back. And maybe it’s you I’m wondering about, perhaps just knowing
that you’re there and you’re ok would make me feel a little more
connected to the girl I was. Because right now, I need a reminder of
where I came from, some small token to hold on to so I don’t forget all
over again.

3 thoughts on “How I wonder where you are

  1. Aubrey,
    A Token. . .. I’m alright. I hope you are well. You will appreciate that when I remembered back, through the distance and time and fog that has been this decade, I remember the last time I saw you. You were standing on the porch of my house, of which I had been recently expelled. I moved from the basement what little I had, beneath your gaze twelve feet above.

  2. Hi Aubrey,
    I may be coming to join you in dissociative-land soon. I can’t believe I missed you in B2B–I was in town for an interview and was watching from near the top of Hayes Hill. I’ll definitely get in touch next time I come out.

  3. Even if this an older post.
    I’m still here. And I still read. Archives even.
    And so glad to hear that the South was never ripped from you.

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