THIS REWIND ENTRY REVISITS AN OLD POEM SUBMITTED FOR VISUAL DESIGN THEORY - ARCH102 - INSPIRED BY THE INNER WORKINGS OF MY SECOND YEAR IN ARCHITECTURE SCHOOL.

SEE AGAIN 

As I ran my fingers through her hair I relived what moments I had with my pen and paper just yesterday. The mind, stricken with grief and utmost dread, was engaged in a highly unlikely battle with none other than herself.

She saw the stars and the stripes, black ink on the leather bound notebook that held memories from years past. She saw the day of October 29th and the earth-like curves of her body that Saturday weekend and the tears from summer when she said goodbye.

She saw anger and fear yet refused to believe it as if it were a fairytale. She saw, with her eyes and her ears, drawings and colors wide from when I first fell into the visceral abyss. Black and sharp lines penetrated the delicate paper that held no hostage to such crimes. They only reinforced an emotional state unparalleled to anxious cries for help.

She saw cozy fires and a memory of the house on that lake I grew up and the dog whose muzzle hair got older as the timber deck fell into disrepair. She felt, with her hands, an uncertainty that was ambiguous and freeing as I walked halls and navigated corridors with no destination in sight.

She saw me. She could hear the uncensored laughters late at night from 439 and 109 and the bewilderment of the neighbors as yet another ceiling tile was destroyed to bits. As fires burned brighter and our stomachs grew fuller, she saw the conversations and the shine in my eyes as I looked at the people I loved in the world and felt for once at peace.

She saw my left hand as it grazed his right cheek in an attempt to defend a pack of wolves. A shove and a kick were all it took for that battle to end and the back of my head hit the ground.

I heard what they were saying about me, how the experiences and the crimes felt fake and altered. As I moved to disprove the crowd, she stopped me and handed me that damn leather bound notebook.