Under The Fold

I know I keep alluding to ghosts and shadows and dreams (especially dreams) and that kind of stuff on this blog, so, I’m almost sorry that I’m doing this again.


Anyway, I have to undergo a background check for my summer employer, and one of the conditions is that I find the first paycheck I ever received because that’s somehow integral to my getting formally employed or whatever.

So, I was snooping through all of my pay stubs, and though I’m not the most organized person in the world, weirdly enough, I still have all of my biweekly pay stubs starting from November in 2011. I’ve been tossing the envelopes, with my pay info still inside them, into various desk drawers for the past couple of years, and at some point I started throwing them into this bag in which I keep other important documents, like a copy of my Social Security card thing, a scan of my driver’s license, various job info, letters from my family.

I was going through this bag, picking out paycheck envelopes, when I stumbled upon an envelope without anything in it. On it, written in black ink and a slanted scrawl, was just one word: “Lily.”

Last summer, as I was climbing into the front seat of my friend’s car (Yaris!), I slammed my head into the car frame because sometimes, life is difficult.

Finding that envelope, holding it in my hand and remembering what it used to contain… it felt like the crash of my forehead into the metal frame, minus the actual physical pain. No, scratch that—replace the physical pain with a sudden feeling of weird spiritual suffocation. I was breathing just normally, but it felt like someone else was taking those breaths.

It was a weird reaction because it really doesn’t matter, right!!! But actually. These are the things—okay, only one thing, that doesn’t affect my life, but it just keeps popping up in my subconscious and my hard drive and now there’s this empty envelope in my drawer kickin’ it with my financial and legal info and it’s weird because I don’t want it or need it or anything but the thought of tearing it up or throwing it away is just…

it feels wrong

and it’s strange, that I mailed back the envelope’s contents but kept just that.

“Lily.” My name looks foreign in that script.


(Image: Swing by YOY)


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