May 17th, 2021
There are no real promises in this life save for a few, that it will go on for some, and that it will end for others. I thought it would have ended for me by now, but here I am. I thought I would never get to see Katie again, but here I am, and hopefully, here she will be eventually. The lyrics to “Perfect Day” are going round and round in my head at this point as I try to divine just what I might say to her if she does show up. She left me a message after all, it would be unlike her not to keep her word.
If it’s really her.
I’m still troubled by the fact that I have no idea how she could have possibly known where I was, what I was doing, or how to reach me. Unless the Katie I knew became an excellent surveillance tech or a spy or some other sort of expert at keeping tabs on people then there’s plenty to worry about. But hope keeps blinding me as usual to the idea that there’s any danger.
It won’t let me ignore the fact that there might be a chance, however small, that she’ll be here, that she’ll remember me, and that this will be the day she spoke of so long ago. Hope is sometimes just as bad as fear I’ve found, as it blinds you to so many things that you might otherwise think about given the chance to do so. It sounds funny to think that something so positive could lead to such negative results, but it’s almost like feeding yourself too much in a way, it will nourish your body and keep you functioning, but too much begins to have the opposite effect. Holding on to hope is very similar.
It burns out good sense and dampens that animal instinct that tells you when something is wrong, and it causes doubt and paranoia to take over where reason and logic might be best served, much as I’m feeling now. On the outside it’s calm, I don’t betray a lot of my emotions upon my face or in my eyes. I learned this while smuggling, as many people can be undone by their facial expressions and most definitely by what their eyes tell others.
But inside, as of right now, I’m a mess.
There’s only ten minutes left before the appointed time, and I’ve no idea what to think any longer, other than to wonder if it really was Katie, or if I’ve been had.
Nine minutes to go.
(to be concluded)