(no subject)
Sometimes, mostly late at night when I haven't been sleeping, I look through my old photos and miss my Net so much I can barely stand it. Occasionally I get accused of being guarded (true perhaps) and it sometimes feels like the answer is there in the pictures. Sometimes, I think that if I stare at myself long enough, I can slip back into that time. My friend tells me I need to make myself available. Maybe if I just memorize what that looks like...was my hair longer then? Or did I just throw my head back?
I have a dear friend here who's in the midst of her first heartbreak.
And there's the potential of this other boy, who has his same name. Every time I say it my brain has to check itself. It feels much like a betrayal. But he's too old for nicknames. And I worry sometimes that so am I. After all so much is approaching. I wonder if I'll be able to do all I'd hoped. I wonder if I'll be any good at my profession. I wonder where I'll choose to live.
Virginia holds my heart. But there are so many places Seuss promised I'd go.
It isn't fair to hold myself accountable to those moments that once captured- pass. But, it's too difficult to remember the general feel of a thing. So much easier to peer through a window and remember the way I had to look up to see his face. I wonder if he thinks of me ever. And if any of us ever move on. I suspect we do and don't. Because the way I miss him isn't any different from the way I miss other things. Like sitting with my sister's mom on the porch in the Springs before she died, drinking pina coladas. Like building elaborate hiding places in the Jesse's basement. Aching nostalgia. In NY, when the music rose for the first scene of Lion King I immediately thought of Roxy and cried.
But then again...I cry fairly easily.
I have a dear friend here who's in the midst of her first heartbreak.
And there's the potential of this other boy, who has his same name. Every time I say it my brain has to check itself. It feels much like a betrayal. But he's too old for nicknames. And I worry sometimes that so am I. After all so much is approaching. I wonder if I'll be able to do all I'd hoped. I wonder if I'll be any good at my profession. I wonder where I'll choose to live.
Virginia holds my heart. But there are so many places Seuss promised I'd go.
It isn't fair to hold myself accountable to those moments that once captured- pass. But, it's too difficult to remember the general feel of a thing. So much easier to peer through a window and remember the way I had to look up to see his face. I wonder if he thinks of me ever. And if any of us ever move on. I suspect we do and don't. Because the way I miss him isn't any different from the way I miss other things. Like sitting with my sister's mom on the porch in the Springs before she died, drinking pina coladas. Like building elaborate hiding places in the Jesse's basement. Aching nostalgia. In NY, when the music rose for the first scene of Lion King I immediately thought of Roxy and cried.
But then again...I cry fairly easily.