Today, I am drunk, looking at a photo of my best friend and I, (former I guess) and reading the caption.
The question is, why do we do these things to ourselves? Why do we look at pictures like that? The bigger question is why do people keep photos like that up years after the person is gone, years after those words are no longer true.
I think the answer is because it’s the light on, you know, I’ll try and leave a light on when you’re gone, something to remind you to come home.
Those pictures, those captions, they’re the light, the prayer that you’ll come back, that things will be the same again, that those words will once again be true.
To that friend, I’m sorry. Quitting you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, and I miss you everyday, though sometimes I admit, I forget why. Maybe just because you are so much a part of me and now I’ve lost that.
But I can’t relapse. I’ll never get off again and that boat is sinking and me, I’m finally myself.
But please leave the light on while I’m gone. One day, maybe we can come back to each other.
I recently started a blog for a class.assignment.
I go to a school that’s extremely hard to get into, but known for a stereotype of dumb, shallow blonde girls that attend it, it has merit, it has truth, like most stereotypes do.
These girls are called the typical western girl, and I wrote a blog about this stereotype and my experience living it.
I thought it would be mostly satire, but it’s not, it’s mostly just honest.
If you’d like, check it out
In our culture we live moment to moment, I think that’s true. But for me, in this moment I want to remember feeling like the luckiest girl in the world, like right now for this second, all the pieces are in place.
And I want to remember this.
Sitting in my familiar seat drinking hot chocolate, him drinking his coffee, laughing together, sliding money over the table so I can do something with my brother.
He finishes talking and lets me go, I feel like brightness and like he can see the light rolling off me in waves, goodbye papa, I’ll see you soon! I call and I turn around to his crinkled face in one of his genuine smiles, the rare ones.
Bye bye he says, thank you for coming puppet, I can hear the love and rare affection in his voice. It is with the money in my pockets and the wave of love washing over me, love for me, for how I guess I can’t help but love by brother, that I walk out into the light and catch fire.
I smile and I ache for him, for the grandfather he is to me sometimes, in moments like this, for the blood we share, our common last name, for the way he looks at me like I am the best thing he has done, like I am his real legacy.
I don’t want my kids to grow up with too much. I don’t want them to be around kids of excess either.
I grew up in a house with a hole in the wall and a sink that has leaked for 10 years. I climbed trees in hand-me-down clothes and could entertain myself with sticks for an entire afternoon.
I want them to reach for things they want, work them, and appreciate what they have. I want my children to want for things, I don’t want them to need anything, they should have food and water and attention and a jacket that’s warm enough for the weather. They should have toys at christmas and a birthday party with cake and good loot bags.
But have everything?
I would never wish that upon anyone, what a curse it is not to want for anything.
And here is what I’m learning,
you’re allowed to fall apart,
you’re allowed to forget people and forgive people and hurt people and get hurt and feel how you feel because sometimes you just need to feel that way.
"You know, you are really something else, I enjoyed this ride very much,"
Sweetest things are sometimes said at the weirdest times, like alone, dipping out on a guy who wanted to come home with you, and having the best five minutes of the night explaining all this to the taxi driver, I enjoyed it too sir, me too.
"Do you think I did the right thing, coming here?"
"Yeah, I do,"
"It’s just, I was never the person who needed help, from anybody, especially not this kind,"
"We all need a little help sometimes."
Just because I always want to remember last night, the night I went to a kegger and wound up salsa dancing for four hours, like legitimately salsa dancing, being twirled and dipped, laughing, my hair flying everywhere, feeling 19, I was my best self last night.
I was the kind of girl you fall in love with, the one who twirls around lighting up the entire room, who’s laughing and dipping, who’s fun and friendly and funny, and bring everyone else out of their shell and along for the ride. My best self, that is who I was.
You don’t understand because you can’t understand, so can you just maybe accept that considering everything, the life I’ve lived and what I’ve experienced that I’m not only right but not even a fucking smidge out of line here, and maybe just shut the fuck up and be a friend? Be a friend, okay? I don’t need you to be my god damned judge and jury, be a friend.