Speechless

by Adam P. Schmitt

I flip to the front side: the typed, articulate, organized side with a compliment in red ink. And back again to Patrick’s scattered, jumbled voice. It doesn’t make any sense. It’s all over the place. I know his brain worked fast at times, but I’ve never seen it in writing like this. Is this how he always thought about stuff? All . . . whatever this is? I don’t know how his hands kept up with his thoughts, or if they did at all. I read it again, looking for some sense in it. I’m only more lost. I don’t get it. How can these be written by the same person? How can I have known Patrick all of my life and still be so confused about who he was? I don’t know if I can make sense of this note. I don’t even know who it was written for or why. The more I think about him, the less I understand. Patrick never said anything was wrong, though. He never said anything about why he acted the way he did. But things like this note . . . Was Patrick trying to say something?