Once before I go, I want you to know …
Would you do it all again? If. If the chance were given to go back with what you now know, what you uncovered from all of the leaving. Would you use what you have to change what you had?
Would you start with the girl drinking tequila from the bottle, the way she thinks his absence is something she’s done, the way she tries to undo it when he walks in the door. Would you say it’s not cake if it’s just crumbs and stop her from taking that bite?
Or would you whisper in her ear that it’s just life after-all and say go. Tell her to live her life like you’ll write it? Because it’s all there on that very first night, the little addictions, the tiny cravings. The way she finds a relief in transgression. She is barely out of her teens but she already knows. That most of what she meets will want her to break it.
Would you do it all again? If. If it all were to turn out exactly the same. Would you tell her to say yes to the men who invite her in and lock her out? Would you let her become nothing but impulse and twitch under the skin, let her lose her layers one by one in their arms? Would you keep her eyes fixed on the stars while they’re all looking down?
Or would you tell her love this one a little more – and love that one so much less. Would you give her that chance to redact her past, to forget the things she doesn’t know? Would you do it all again? What is it we ever gain from losing?