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Quote by Karl Kristian Flores

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The Goodbye Song

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Karl Kristian Flores

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“Let us wish that the speed granted by our technologies saves us plenty of time for life ahead...Yet, where to is this destination of life that makes the observation of it so dreadful? The impatient people who rush for the new are like fools chasing a mirror, wondering whose face they’d find when they catch it. Nothing awaits us. Convenience will one day reveal that we have nowhere to go, except towards each other.”

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“I always ask what’s the meaning of life, but when I say the meaning of life I don’t mean, “Why is there an earth?” but I mean, “What am I supposed to do in it?” In this bum ass house in the suburbs of nowhere and a handful of decades. Maybe beer. Paychecks. Crazy girlfriends. Then fixing shit—like there will always be something wrong with our car, or internet that we have to fix, or we have to take care of some family member who’s got some disease. Then we get kids before we could find out the answer.”

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“After finishing his breakfast. Charlie decided to clean the kitchen, but wanted to do it entirely with one leg. He laughed his way through the cabinets, inside the sink, on the floor, under the table, and against the walls like a kid who gets a kick out of making things harder for themself. It was none other than the heart of sport, for what was a sport but a project made to be harder for a player? To pass the ball but only with your feet. To have three chances to bat. To play catch with a friend, but without gloves. The fun was to see if you could do it. But when non-athletic hardships come, the adults mysteriously run.”

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“He turned to his side, with the kind of creepily glazed look our eyeballs make when we’re alone in a room, brushing our teeth, chewing, or wiping our ass. His blanket was still wet with warm semen. He thought about his father. Then he remembered he needed to wash the clothes in the laundromat. His semen dripped and he thought about bird feeding. There was one bird who loved his safflower seeds. He ground his teeth and imagined what it was like to be born in Africa. He reflected on his most recent online English tutor lesson learning from a native speaker. He was fluent, but it paid to feel like you had a friend somewhere. Then he thought of peanut butter. The thoughts of the human mind transition so quickly that it only ever seems strange when we say it aloud to someone else. Otherwise, we’re all secretly freaks with our mouths shut. He laid there ugly.”

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“His eyes are open, watching my flushed face, my ragged breathing. I try to stop myself from making embarrassing noises. It’s more intimate than the way he’s touching me, to be looked at like that. I hate that he knows what he’s doing and I don’t. I hate being vulnerable. I hate that I throw my head back, baring my throat. I hate the way I cling to him, the nails of one hand digging into his back, my thoughts splintering, and the single last thing in my head: that I like him better than I’ve ever liked anyone and that of all the things he’s ever done to me, making me like him so much is by far the worst.”

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