much farther to go...
i have found that time really does eat up everything in such a large and final way.
no matter what you try to do, lay down on the tracks, push your hardest against the moving car, hold the hands, look into the eyes of those you love so much and cry and scream and beg them not to change, everything keeps moving on. the inertia moves and moves faster and faster and everything that once seemed so far away, and so impossible to understand is suddenly here, upon us, and it is no longer important to just understand, but now to understand and also to deal.
so all at once, it doesn't matter anymore whether or not you know how...it just happens.
it makes me think of the first time i ever held my niece. that morning, the last 9 months my beautiful sister was pregnant, i don't think it even occured to me that in the coming months, weeks, days, we would be responsible for this new life. this tiny new person, so completely defenseless, clueless and illiterate and mute...she wouldn't know what to do with herself. we would teach her to walk. talk. eat. when to sleep. and i had no idea what all of that would look like. and 9 months, so far from the future, kept me safe from all this. a nine month, impenetrable barrier between us and this unbelievable change. this new life...and when we were the least ready, the night melissa went to the hospital, it no longer mattered. we were there. and i held her, that tiny person, and i cried. the sun was rising when she first heard her own name. the first time she ever saw my sister's eyes.
and now, i read about all those i have loved, held close, and everything is changing. people in whom i once believed are abandoning themselves to alcohol, to misery, to the unbearable suffering of change. to never growing up, to growing up too fast. it breaks my heart when i hear that one of the last few have broken edge. it scares me to think of the path ahead. it terrifies me to think i may never taste of the one whom i love. it kills me to imagine never holding close a son or daughter of my own, and it makes me sick to think of the people i have disappointed. the ones who must think that everything for which i have fought is dead to me now. that i have lost hope. that hardcore means nothing to me. that straight edge is not every decision i ever make. that anarchy is just another phase, and that Jesus just can't jive with all that. because though that may seem so, it could never be farther from the truth. i am not those about whom ian mackaye and the great mr. issa lament. quite on the contrary, i have never been more true. true to myself. true to those i love.
"you're more important to me, than any hardcore scene,"
no matter what you try to do, lay down on the tracks, push your hardest against the moving car, hold the hands, look into the eyes of those you love so much and cry and scream and beg them not to change, everything keeps moving on. the inertia moves and moves faster and faster and everything that once seemed so far away, and so impossible to understand is suddenly here, upon us, and it is no longer important to just understand, but now to understand and also to deal.
so all at once, it doesn't matter anymore whether or not you know how...it just happens.
it makes me think of the first time i ever held my niece. that morning, the last 9 months my beautiful sister was pregnant, i don't think it even occured to me that in the coming months, weeks, days, we would be responsible for this new life. this tiny new person, so completely defenseless, clueless and illiterate and mute...she wouldn't know what to do with herself. we would teach her to walk. talk. eat. when to sleep. and i had no idea what all of that would look like. and 9 months, so far from the future, kept me safe from all this. a nine month, impenetrable barrier between us and this unbelievable change. this new life...and when we were the least ready, the night melissa went to the hospital, it no longer mattered. we were there. and i held her, that tiny person, and i cried. the sun was rising when she first heard her own name. the first time she ever saw my sister's eyes.
and now, i read about all those i have loved, held close, and everything is changing. people in whom i once believed are abandoning themselves to alcohol, to misery, to the unbearable suffering of change. to never growing up, to growing up too fast. it breaks my heart when i hear that one of the last few have broken edge. it scares me to think of the path ahead. it terrifies me to think i may never taste of the one whom i love. it kills me to imagine never holding close a son or daughter of my own, and it makes me sick to think of the people i have disappointed. the ones who must think that everything for which i have fought is dead to me now. that i have lost hope. that hardcore means nothing to me. that straight edge is not every decision i ever make. that anarchy is just another phase, and that Jesus just can't jive with all that. because though that may seem so, it could never be farther from the truth. i am not those about whom ian mackaye and the great mr. issa lament. quite on the contrary, i have never been more true. true to myself. true to those i love.
"you're more important to me, than any hardcore scene,"