of first posts, being two and batteries that lie
I am writing this in Notepad, to be pasted later into LJ, in the car on my way back to school. I have been building up to actually posting now for several months and figured that this was as good a time as any to start. My little battery icon is telling me that I have 33% battery left, which it claims is 25 minutes, but it lies and will probably die on me at any moment.
I saw Alexis yesterday. Seeing her is almost like stepping into another time, as though there are two of me, one that split off somewhere two years and a lifetime ago. Our lives had been so entangled for so long, and the sudden disconnection so painful, a piece of me was frozen there. Most of the time I am completely unaware of it, each state of mind existing independently of the other, then they'll cross over and confuse the hell out of me.
I'll be who I am, who I've become, and we aren't friends, she's not there, not a part of it. And then she'll call, the sound of her voice old and familiar and startling.
Or I'll be going along, believing I'm that old person, that there was never a space, being oblivious to what happened in it. Not like I have forgotten, but as though it never happened at all. But then it always surprises me how hard she hugs me, and it hits me in that moment and it makes me suddenly, painfully aware that there was a long time when we didn't know each other anymore, that she is exactly the same as she has always been, and that she no longer knows me, can't possibly know me at all. Every time we see each other and every time we part that hug is her way of telling me that she missed me, that she didn't forget about me, that she didn't mean to hurt me. She holds on like she's afraid to let go. I drive home knowing that.
It wasn't that long, but it feels like forever ago, like I'm looking back at something that was a big part of my
life twenty years ago and only now seeing the influence it had on me; sometimes we use the same facial expressions, the same odd slang, the same excited way of speaking, the same mannerisms, the same laugh. We used to live our lives to the same beat, and even apart, it continued, exactly the same. I'll glance at her and see flashes of myself.
So, I have come to this conclusion: I never want to go back. There are so many things during that time that I usually wish had never happened. I could never possibly go back to being who I was. I realize now that I didn't change slowly, over time, didn't ease into myself. I picked up my life, turned it upside down, and shook it to see what rolled out. That left a gap I didn't realize was there until just yesterday. I thought I'd left her there. I know now that I never should have doubted what I believed to be certain back when we were best friends, the first time she was pregnant, six years ago: she is always going to be part of my life, I am going to be there when her first baby is born.
I have to go back now and incorporate her into my life.
Eventually it won't be weird anymore, but for now I'm just trying to understand it.
See. This is why I shouldn't post in Livejournal. At least it's out now, and no longer spinning around in my brain like The Underwear Kaleidoscope Show.
So, anyway, she's in week 21 now. The baby is eight inches long, and she kicks all the time. I am going to pick up some baby name books and start compiling a list. She asked me for help picking something out, and I have now made it my personal mission to keep her from naming this baby "Gia".
Halfway through typing this, my battery icon told me I had 15% or 45 minutes of battery left, and then died on me. Lies, I tell you, lies.
I saw Alexis yesterday. Seeing her is almost like stepping into another time, as though there are two of me, one that split off somewhere two years and a lifetime ago. Our lives had been so entangled for so long, and the sudden disconnection so painful, a piece of me was frozen there. Most of the time I am completely unaware of it, each state of mind existing independently of the other, then they'll cross over and confuse the hell out of me.
I'll be who I am, who I've become, and we aren't friends, she's not there, not a part of it. And then she'll call, the sound of her voice old and familiar and startling.
Or I'll be going along, believing I'm that old person, that there was never a space, being oblivious to what happened in it. Not like I have forgotten, but as though it never happened at all. But then it always surprises me how hard she hugs me, and it hits me in that moment and it makes me suddenly, painfully aware that there was a long time when we didn't know each other anymore, that she is exactly the same as she has always been, and that she no longer knows me, can't possibly know me at all. Every time we see each other and every time we part that hug is her way of telling me that she missed me, that she didn't forget about me, that she didn't mean to hurt me. She holds on like she's afraid to let go. I drive home knowing that.
It wasn't that long, but it feels like forever ago, like I'm looking back at something that was a big part of my
life twenty years ago and only now seeing the influence it had on me; sometimes we use the same facial expressions, the same odd slang, the same excited way of speaking, the same mannerisms, the same laugh. We used to live our lives to the same beat, and even apart, it continued, exactly the same. I'll glance at her and see flashes of myself.
So, I have come to this conclusion: I never want to go back. There are so many things during that time that I usually wish had never happened. I could never possibly go back to being who I was. I realize now that I didn't change slowly, over time, didn't ease into myself. I picked up my life, turned it upside down, and shook it to see what rolled out. That left a gap I didn't realize was there until just yesterday. I thought I'd left her there. I know now that I never should have doubted what I believed to be certain back when we were best friends, the first time she was pregnant, six years ago: she is always going to be part of my life, I am going to be there when her first baby is born.
I have to go back now and incorporate her into my life.
Eventually it won't be weird anymore, but for now I'm just trying to understand it.
See. This is why I shouldn't post in Livejournal. At least it's out now, and no longer spinning around in my brain like The Underwear Kaleidoscope Show.
So, anyway, she's in week 21 now. The baby is eight inches long, and she kicks all the time. I am going to pick up some baby name books and start compiling a list. She asked me for help picking something out, and I have now made it my personal mission to keep her from naming this baby "Gia".
Halfway through typing this, my battery icon told me I had 15% or 45 minutes of battery left, and then died on me. Lies, I tell you, lies.