(no subject)
I miss him, and I miss them too. I miss shows and low light and loud crowds and snobby scenesters "My music is xbetter than thisx" and tattoos and piercings and good music and the time I spend with those I love before my early curfew and blurry band photographs. I miss long drives into nowhere and dirty hip-hop and magazines (I'm looking over your shoulder) and pink earrings and flowered shoes that make my feet cold because they're wet from the snow in the parking lot and matching jeans and warm smiles and no interruptions. I miss glitter and glowsticks we found in the park and black eyeliner and flowers in my hair and rosepetals on the ground and polka dots and high heels and red lip gloss and dancing. Yes, I miss fake-dancing and Frank Sinatra and kissing him on the cheek and hand-holding and close hugs and long walks around everywhere and skipping and hopscotching and twirling and not jogging very far and loving. I miss being little and holding Daddy's hand when I cross the street and letting him throw me up in the air because he will catch me, I know he will, and skinning my knees and bruising my shins and letting Daddy make it all better, because he will, and jumping into puddles. I miss being eeven littler and swinging into the fence when I tried to jump off and getting splinters everywhere and letting Mom get them out, because she can, and dressing up in her clothes and makeup that only looked good on her and making a mess and taking a bath and wondering if I was a Christian or not and if I told God I didn't want to be one would He allow that? and deciding that after all, I did want to be one and dressing up like a princess in puffy sleeves and curled bangs and hair ribbons to go to church where I stood by the drinking fountain and told my Pastor John that I was born on a Sunday so wasn't I special? I miss making some mistakes and having a chance to fix them, only this time I would really still be friends with you and we'd still go to soccer games and eat candy corn and play skateboarding video games, and with you I'd go skiing and play tennis and switch dresses at homecoming. Most of all, I miss remembering more things like this, I miss the chances I had to write them down. I miss writing, I miss being inspired and slow poetry and handwritten pages and black diaries and stationery and stamps and lyricism blended with humor and ink on my ring finger and on the side of my palm where I accidentally put my hand down on the page and chipped nail polish, because I have made memories today! I have made memories and recorded them so that no, sir, they will not be lost but rather monuments to the life that I once lived which is shaping the one I will.