Found Objects, or, You Die By Your Own Hand or Kill What You Can't Stand

(to be followed by listening to Die By Your Own Hand by Forgetters; part of title is taken from the lyrics)


A few days ago while walking along the water, I found a small but heavy chest stuck between two sizeable rocks.  The chest was like the ones used in seafood restaurant commercials, or found at the bottom of aquariums, to denote treasure.  Inside of it, wet but still in tact, there was a note and three photographs.

The note read:

I loved you the way someone should have loved you all along.
It will make you hate me.
It is easier to hate me than to hate anyone who should have loved you first, and well. 

The photographs were of a woman and a small child. On the back of one of the photos was written:

I try to know you but it's too late
Some (lady) told you how you're no good
So now you're gonna prove (her) right 

There was a smudge after the last line of the message. A lost word. Lost punctuation. A smear of grime. It was hard to tell. 

I gathered the contents and placed them back into the chest.  I pushed the chest back in between the rocks, careful to leave it angled upon the sharp beach where I found it.  The message was not for me, and I was certain that its contents were sought.




be well; be loved,

k.
(image via pancakebandit tumblr) 
(influence: The Night Accelerates by Forgetters)