dum vita est, spes est
mikhail baryshnikov is a cool dude.-----
i was listening to some music while i was cleaning my room the other day, and a line from one of the songs struck me so hard i had to sit down and rethink it for a while, and accept that it was true.
"i realize that i just don't love you
not like i used to"
and then a big smile decided to appear on my face, staying there until i finished cleaning, leaving me with a good satisfaction that thank fucking god, i'm over it.
-----
we were just hanging out one day when we heard about two of our good friends involved in a car accident. it was nerve-wracking, for sure, but thankfully they escaped with nothing but a few pills of soma and vicodin and a knee brace.
it's one of those things that makes you flash all the moments you've had with these people in two seconds, then you feel immediate fear because you realize you might not be able to relive any of those.
immediate fear because you can't grow old with people.
loss is a weird thing. i remember my great grandma's funeral when i was around six or seven. everyone around me was crying, sobbing. i wanted to cry. i wsa forcing myself to. but nothing came. i never really knew her. but family's family, so i was there, dressed in a little kid's suit, pretending to rub my eyes and wipe my tears with my sleeve because i saw my dad doing it.
flash to when i was a sophomore in high school. i hear about my grandma's death. i sat in my room for two seconds and immediately bawled. my grandma practically raised me, taught me all the little things i should and shouldn't do: don't swim after eating, don't use your hands to eat that, don't poke sticks in that. my brother and i were crying for a while, out of shock more than grief, and came to terms with it a few days later.
and then four years later, dear dear liam said goodbye to us all by overdosing on methamphetamines. he was one of my best friends in manhattan, one of those artsy-geeky-rocker types that the english majors would fall in love with. depressed over the loss of his best friend at 9/11, he crashed in two years, spiraling to a careless and frenzied way of dealing with his loss.
for months, my friends and i wondered why. we cried, we got mad, we didn't want to see each other. i got diagnosed with clinical depression, stemming from his death; and a few more of my friends went through the same. to this day, every time i hear "yellow" i can't help but feel emotional.
but in all these cases of loss you realize that what everyone's been saying all along is true. you don't know what you have until it's gone. i won't ever hear stories from my great grandma's mouth, i won't ever get to hug my grandma, and i won't ever have the chance to hang out with liam.
so if it sounds as if i'm terribly concerned or overactive about these kinds of situations, it's because i'm afraid. loss can make you a hell of a lot more fucked up than you already are (don't tell me you aren't or you'll get ripped a new one).
but i hold out. hope usually wins when it comes to these things, and despite everyone thinking i'm a pessimist, i'm hoping the pessimism holds out on the double negativity of the situation. not to mention all the great friends i have, the ones i will have a chance to grow old with, the ones that tie together sanity and optimism with adventure and caution.
consider this a premature thank you.
-----
have you ever felt a longing, a tug at your heart, a pull at your sleeve, to be with someone?
it hurts.
-----
it's when the birds chirp pleasantly in the morning, when the sun decides to bathe berkeley in a golden swath of light, when the flowers waft their aromas onto the sidewalk, when the grass is cool under half an inch of cover, when the water twinkles during high noon.
it's summer.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home