we are autumn nights in august, peaked before our time
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
-Langston Hughes
This poem popped into my head a few days ago and though I have never been a fan of this specific poem, I always thought the concept was pretty cool. I've been thinking about friendship quite a bit. Not one or many in particular, but how necessary and superfluous it can be at any given moment in our lives. While family and lovers hold their own complex/insane places in our worlds, it seems friendship is the most frustrating and rewarding relationship. We are born with our blood relatives and until we get older, we have very little say on how much they will be part of our lives. And though love affairs and relationships and brief trysts entertain, motivate, and inspire us, i've always felt that friendship is the type of relationship that changes us. i guess that the aforementioned poem popped into my head because i wonder something similar about friendship. perhaps not deferred, but what about when it is no longer there.
What happens when friendship dies?
does it suffer and cry? gasp for air and pray?
what if it doesn't go down in flames? what if friendship fades? did it ever exist at all? it can't remember what we do. hold grudges or heartache.ev and so it seems all friendship is capable of doing is holding what we put into it. maybe friendship can't die, but it surely seems it can cease to live.
do you remember those things, i think they're called Magic Eyes? sometimes i feel like friendship is like trying to figure one of those out. you concentrate on seeing the big picture and change your perspective to do so. and sometimes if you're quite lucky, you can see the image through the jumbled mess. and then something happens. someone bumps you in the books store. your cell phone goes off. or you just lose it somehow. and the image is gone. you close your eyes trying to remember what you did right to make it happen so you could see it, and sometimes you can get it back. sometimes you can see it again. while i sit in barnes and noble staring at that book, i wonder, is it really worth the headache?
i feel like i'm fading too.
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
-Langston Hughes
This poem popped into my head a few days ago and though I have never been a fan of this specific poem, I always thought the concept was pretty cool. I've been thinking about friendship quite a bit. Not one or many in particular, but how necessary and superfluous it can be at any given moment in our lives. While family and lovers hold their own complex/insane places in our worlds, it seems friendship is the most frustrating and rewarding relationship. We are born with our blood relatives and until we get older, we have very little say on how much they will be part of our lives. And though love affairs and relationships and brief trysts entertain, motivate, and inspire us, i've always felt that friendship is the type of relationship that changes us. i guess that the aforementioned poem popped into my head because i wonder something similar about friendship. perhaps not deferred, but what about when it is no longer there.
What happens when friendship dies?
does it suffer and cry? gasp for air and pray?
what if it doesn't go down in flames? what if friendship fades? did it ever exist at all? it can't remember what we do. hold grudges or heartache.ev and so it seems all friendship is capable of doing is holding what we put into it. maybe friendship can't die, but it surely seems it can cease to live.
do you remember those things, i think they're called Magic Eyes? sometimes i feel like friendship is like trying to figure one of those out. you concentrate on seeing the big picture and change your perspective to do so. and sometimes if you're quite lucky, you can see the image through the jumbled mess. and then something happens. someone bumps you in the books store. your cell phone goes off. or you just lose it somehow. and the image is gone. you close your eyes trying to remember what you did right to make it happen so you could see it, and sometimes you can get it back. sometimes you can see it again. while i sit in barnes and noble staring at that book, i wonder, is it really worth the headache?
i feel like i'm fading too.