I was recently published in The Rumpus Readers Report! Enjoy this short essay based on the theme “Running Away,” providing an unwarranted glimpse into my heart, wanting what it wants, and also guinea pigs:
Running Away With My Imagination
Published June 15, 2011 by The Rumpus Readers Report
My Imagination and I met at a party in Kathy Muldoon’s basement. Her basement smelled like guinea pigs because Kathy Muldoon’s sister, Mary Muldoon, kept guinea pigs down there, and I commented to My Imagination that it very much smelled like guinea pigs. My Imagination agreed, and we pretty much hit it off from there.
My Imagination and I decided to go steady early on. We slow-danced at the school dances. We fast-danced at the YMCA dances, like the public school kids.
I was so into My Imagination. I wrote “LB + MI = 4EVA” all over my binder in whiteout pen. I posted pictures of My Imagination in my locker. I stole his sweatshirt, but not really, because we were an item, and it was an unspoken rule that I got to wear his sweatshirt so that I could tell other people that I was wearing a boy’s sweatshirt, and not just any boy’s sweatshirt, My Imagination’s sweatshirt.
One night, My Imagination woke me up by throwing rocks at my bedroom window. I was like, “You’re crazy! My parents are going to kill you!” But he was like, “Come on, let’s get out of here!” And I was like, “Yes.”
My Imagination had stolen a car from his older brother, who’d been fixing it up for seven years. My Imagination’s brother is a low-life with no aspirations. He lives in My Imagination’s parents’ basement. The basement smells like warm clay and salt but, to my knowledge, neither clay nor salt is anywhere to be found.
I said, “Where are we going?” And My Imagination said, “Crazy!” And I was like, “Wait, you’re joking.” And he confirmed, “Yeah, it was a joke.” I was in love with My goddamn Imagination, so much so that I felt like an adult. An adult who could take the Lord’s name in vain.
I lost my virginity to My Imagination in a Super 8 Motel room, and it was weird. I didn’t want to cry but I did, and then a week later My Imagination and I broke up. Don’t feel bad for me, though. I was young. I was supposed to be living and learning, and I think that’s exactly what happened with the lackluster motel sex My Imagination and I had.
It’s all good. Really, it is. Now I’ve got my eye on Financial Planning, that fox.