the man in the car
[this was more for me, less for you. don't feel bad if you don't read it all.]
i was driving home from panera when i passed the house by swifty. i just remembered a year or so ago, there was always this beat up baby blue car sitting on the lawn & man always inside it. my mom & i always looked for him & he rarely failed to sitting in the car. we tried thinking of stories or reasons as to why he's sitting out there, by himself, just hanging on out. maybe he's having problems inside the house & needed somewhere to be alone. perhaps the car had glory days that have long since passed, & that he, the man in the car, shared those days. he looked exactly as you would expect him to: large, scruffy, & sported the red tank tops. those just seemed fitting. if you think about, doesn't it? scraggly red tank tops. i don't even think the car was facing the road, so he wasn't observing much. i believe once, he & a friend were sitting in those church-bingo folding chairs placed just outside the car. they didn't seem to be talking, just sitting. perhaps both reliving the days they wished they hadn't taken for granted. young & untroubled, how could they possibly see themselves sitting in a small town, outside a beat up old car?
this brings to mind many things. the first, is summer. the girl, not the holiday. she was my best friend for a year. best might be an understatement. we were inseparable, on completely different plane. i never thought i could be so close to someone, care so much, or love someone so much. i learned more in that year than any other year. granted, i never stayed awake in any of my classes, i'd never done so many drugs, or drank as much as that year. i've also never been so close to anyone or written so much. i never felt so understood by people. summer & i drifted apart at the beginning of my senior year. just after we saw the blood brothers & cursive in chicago. an amazing end to an amazing friendship. i've never cried so much over one person.
being seventeen was the most bittersweet experience of my life. i had the best friends, who, incidentally, hurt me cry more than anyone had ever made me cry but i also did things that was uncharacteristic of myself. since then, i've gone down so low, emotionally, getting up seemed nearly impossible. i've hurt myself more on the account of other people & now it just seems petty. being eighteen was a shift in emotion. i cried everytime i thought about summer, knowing she was still spiraling beyond repair. knowing that i was a phase in her. her punky-carefree-happy-go-lucky writingsmilinglaughingkissing phase. i cried every time i thought about that night in december when i was sick & sad & did terrible things to myself. i cried every time i thought about the body God gave me. i cried every time i thought about a boy i liked, feeling (knowing, in my head) that he would never like because of the body God gave me. i've scratched at walls crying. i'd been hurt, hurt myself, & hurt my parents.
the past couple of years, i've changed more than i can even begin to describe. i don't regret anything i've done because i'm not the girl that drinks & smokes. i'm not the girl that cries over her body. i'm not the girl that cuts & scratches herself. but that girl did help shape the girl i am now. i'm not completely happy with everything in my life, but i'm content. i'm not hiding myself or my feelings. i don't feel abandoned because i've got the best friend i could ask for. laura understands me & she makes me laugh & she's almost the same person. we complement each other. i've got everything i could ask for & there's no use in crying, though it does help. i used to hate the fact that i could cry so easily at night & wake up & be happy. well, act happy. now i know that crying is just a way for me to vent. i used to cut or bottle things up, now i cry or listen to a song that makes me feel infinite or read or write. or do anything of the things i'm capable of doing as the girl i am now.
i'm still scared of growing up & getting older. but i think things will be infinitely better now that i've realized that i can do whatever i want. & i don't have to worry about what other people because as long as i've got my friends & music & the occasional coke (the drink, not the drug), i'm happy.
that felt good.
xoxo
i was driving home from panera when i passed the house by swifty. i just remembered a year or so ago, there was always this beat up baby blue car sitting on the lawn & man always inside it. my mom & i always looked for him & he rarely failed to sitting in the car. we tried thinking of stories or reasons as to why he's sitting out there, by himself, just hanging on out. maybe he's having problems inside the house & needed somewhere to be alone. perhaps the car had glory days that have long since passed, & that he, the man in the car, shared those days. he looked exactly as you would expect him to: large, scruffy, & sported the red tank tops. those just seemed fitting. if you think about, doesn't it? scraggly red tank tops. i don't even think the car was facing the road, so he wasn't observing much. i believe once, he & a friend were sitting in those church-bingo folding chairs placed just outside the car. they didn't seem to be talking, just sitting. perhaps both reliving the days they wished they hadn't taken for granted. young & untroubled, how could they possibly see themselves sitting in a small town, outside a beat up old car?
this brings to mind many things. the first, is summer. the girl, not the holiday. she was my best friend for a year. best might be an understatement. we were inseparable, on completely different plane. i never thought i could be so close to someone, care so much, or love someone so much. i learned more in that year than any other year. granted, i never stayed awake in any of my classes, i'd never done so many drugs, or drank as much as that year. i've also never been so close to anyone or written so much. i never felt so understood by people. summer & i drifted apart at the beginning of my senior year. just after we saw the blood brothers & cursive in chicago. an amazing end to an amazing friendship. i've never cried so much over one person.
being seventeen was the most bittersweet experience of my life. i had the best friends, who, incidentally, hurt me cry more than anyone had ever made me cry but i also did things that was uncharacteristic of myself. since then, i've gone down so low, emotionally, getting up seemed nearly impossible. i've hurt myself more on the account of other people & now it just seems petty. being eighteen was a shift in emotion. i cried everytime i thought about summer, knowing she was still spiraling beyond repair. knowing that i was a phase in her. her punky-carefree-happy-go-lucky writingsmilinglaughingkissing phase. i cried every time i thought about that night in december when i was sick & sad & did terrible things to myself. i cried every time i thought about the body God gave me. i cried every time i thought about a boy i liked, feeling (knowing, in my head) that he would never like because of the body God gave me. i've scratched at walls crying. i'd been hurt, hurt myself, & hurt my parents.
the past couple of years, i've changed more than i can even begin to describe. i don't regret anything i've done because i'm not the girl that drinks & smokes. i'm not the girl that cries over her body. i'm not the girl that cuts & scratches herself. but that girl did help shape the girl i am now. i'm not completely happy with everything in my life, but i'm content. i'm not hiding myself or my feelings. i don't feel abandoned because i've got the best friend i could ask for. laura understands me & she makes me laugh & she's almost the same person. we complement each other. i've got everything i could ask for & there's no use in crying, though it does help. i used to hate the fact that i could cry so easily at night & wake up & be happy. well, act happy. now i know that crying is just a way for me to vent. i used to cut or bottle things up, now i cry or listen to a song that makes me feel infinite or read or write. or do anything of the things i'm capable of doing as the girl i am now.
i'm still scared of growing up & getting older. but i think things will be infinitely better now that i've realized that i can do whatever i want. & i don't have to worry about what other people because as long as i've got my friends & music & the occasional coke (the drink, not the drug), i'm happy.
that felt good.
xoxo