We existed.
There is something to be said for old photographs, even if "old" means a lifetime ago, a decade ago, a year or two ago. It probably has a lot to do with my age, but as I was looking at some of my old photographs just now it was amazing to me to see how much I have changed in less than ten years. Me the day I turned 16, tears running down my face because my sister had given me a signed copy of In the Lake of the Woods by Tim O'Brien for my present, blue tips in my hair, a hell of a lot less weight:
I am now 24, several pounds heavier but pretty much okay with it, especially because anorexia was only fun in the dressing room trying on size 0 jeans. I don't dye any part of my hair anymore, or really do much to style it at all. I just let it grow for years between cuts, let it fall as it will, and I like it that way. I still read the work of Tim O'Brien, and still call him one of my favorite living writers. And sometimes I will pull my copy of In the Lake of the Woods off the shelf and read what he wrote to me inside: "Nicole - Peace. Tim O'Brien."
And there were a few years with Adam, my first in many things. The first person I had sex with, my first significant relationship, the first person I truly fell in love with in the wow-it-hurts-this-fucking-much-to-be-without-them kind of way. During the years when I didn't spend a whole lot of time smiling, there were a few moments where I smiled with him:
And Emily, my beautiful Emily. Completely self-centered but like a force of nature. If I were Marie Antoinette she would have been my Duchesse du Polignac, beautiful and vivacious, someone to be lusted after. In her presence I felt beloved. In her absence I felt all the more reminded that I didn't like just being me, because instead, all I wanted to be was her, with the whole world drunk on me.
And J, who I have called beloved on more than one occasion. I have written pages and pages trying to describe the violence of our affection for each other. It was beyond drunk, beyond high, beyond any feelings of lust or love I'd ever really felt before. I was ready to belong to him, instead of belonging to me. I was consumed by him. And in the end, I lost so much of myself to the feeling that I couldn't stand myself anymore. As violently in nature as the relationship itself had been, I finally gave up, and tried to kill the pain of years by killing myself. No one else has ever reached quite so far into me as J, myself the only exception, and for that my heart will always have a place for him. No one has been able to elicit quite the same level of hatred or love as my J, and that is worth remembering.
That was about three and a half years ago. And it took me all of that time to reach the point of actually believing that I had it in me to feel healed. To be content, satisfied, happy. And I look back at these pictures and like the fact that they are there to remind me of the feelings, thoughts, and beliefs I had at the time they were taken. I look at them and remember that I existed, that WE existed. Yes, we fucking existed.
A couple of weeks ago my sister Monica and I went to Puerto Rico for a few days to celebrate the fact that I managed to finish my Master's Degree. And on one of those days we hiked through the El Yunque rain forest to a waterfall. Touristy spot, but I couldn't care less. With trepidation I walked across the yards of rocks, barefoot, to get to the icy water, listening to the pressure of the falls beating through the air. And ahead of me, Monica screamed through the noise that we should swim under the fall itself, sit in the tiny pocket of air behind the water and watch it crash from the other side. And I held myself back for a moment, and I remember perfectly looking up at the falls and feeling my heart beat faster with a touch of fear. Not overwhelming, but not absent either. And in front of me I watched her dive under the blast, and didn't blink until through the crashing white I saw the black of her hair on the other side. And so I took in a breath, and just dove. And kicked, and scrabbled at rock, and fought. And when my head came up next to hers, I turned and looked at the falls crashing around us, felt the water beating my shoulders, and screamed with exhilaration. And it is that moment, that crystallized feeling of elation, that I want to live in forever. And the water kept falling around me, and there was no breath in my lungs, but still I screamed with joy. And years from now, I'll look at this picture, and remember this moment, and remember that WE FUCKING EXISTED.
