11:11

Her name is a palindrome. We met in a MSN chatroom in the late 1900s. She was the first to encourage my writing. I wrote her emo love poems and called her my muse. I wanted to travel to the other side of the world to meet her but I was a Jehovah's Witness and my mother was against it. We stopped talking but I saw her face when I closed my eyes. I prayed to God to make me forget her. He didn't so I overdosed on sleeping pills. I died the week I turned 21. I was in a coma for 37 hours.

20 miserable years passed.

When I was 37 my life was destroyed. For multiple reasons I decided to write. Despite my fragmented memory I never forgot her. I reread my poems before publishing them in "Gangrenous Speeches." I reached out to the "girl from the future." We speak every day and plan to meet. I've known her as two very different versions of myself. Maybe she's the palindrome. Maybe I'm supposed to meet her.

11:11 is an ode to my muse.