Julia doesn't love me anymore, so I skipped the town with seven grams of cocaine and a notebook. Love kills slowly. Drugs kill quickly. Well death snuck up on my heart at a quarter past 2 a.m. and that's when I heard the owl coo and the snake slither in the bushes. That's when I heard the raindrops settle on my windowpane, and that's when I began to reminisce about that one time we drank tea around the campfire until we pissed our pants and fell backwards off the wooden-log seats, rolling in the grass, laughing our asses off until we didn't have asses anymore. And then we made love under the moonlight to the sound of the howling wolf. That was euphoric, wasn't it, my dear Julia? Julia, we are greed-stricken wolves. You tear at my flesh, and I tear back at yours. Julia, you make me mad. Julia, when we love, it's mad. Oh Julia, do you remember when you told me that our souls were intertwined like jungle vines and to untangle them would be impossible? Oh Julia, I'm too crazy for you, and you're too determined for me. Julia, I am weak. I'm like a wrecked bum, begging for your change. I'm begging for a piece of your poisonous cake. Julia, do you believe in Karma? Julia, do you believe in Dharma? Julia, do you remember when I told you that I was going far away, and you didn't believe me? I packed my bags and took off to the train station, and I arrived at Bremen Hauptbahnhof with my apathy and a hundred dollar bill. That's bullshit, Julia. I don't need that shit, Julia. I don't need you, Julia. Julia, Julia, Julia... Everything is good now, Julia. Disclaimer: I've never had a lover named Julia. But Julia isn't a fictional character. In fact, Julia is a conglomeration of lovers I've loved, or lovers I didn't really love. Julia is a thing before Julia is a person.
© Aylin Sozen