(no subject)
Briana's livejournal creation has compelled me to start updating again.
The past segment of my life comes to me in little snapshot, maybe clips from a movie or photographs. I don't think it's a result of the drugs, just those fragments of my life that pop out of the mundane mold, that seem slightly surreal in nature. That words, at least my words, can hardly do justice, but I feel compelled not to let them fade away.
Sitting at a split in the beer gardens at night, huddled with Sarita, Briana, and Ellie, not talking, just sitting with our arms wrapped around each other under the trees and stars.
Nights at Lake Mansfield. Sitting on the picnic bench, looking out over the lake, looking at space...
Sitting on the beach with Anna, blurred, trying to create something with the wrong pieces.
The exploration of a body. Action and reaction.
Basement of Kendrick dancing. Meg Mac running down, tugging on Anna's arm. The following night. Paint.
Again, in the basement of Kendrick, eating a dinner Ryan cooked for us. As we sat around the table the night following the incident, realizing we were no longer children.
My complete breakdown. Walking away from Anna, feeling the tears that had been threatening to escape all week broke loose. Sobbing as I ran into the woods and up to handicap parking, just thrashing through the woods in search of the comfort of friends. Five hours of tears, no longer for any specific reason, simply because I couldn't stop them, because they needed to come.
Making pumpkin pie in the mods. Twice. And the memories of those instances have merged into one. There was a cool fall day, and a rainy one. But we carved the pumpkin. All of it. By hand. Six beautiful pies, by far the most delicious I have ever tasted, whether it be the fresh ingredients or knowing that you made the slice of fat from scratch. Then sitting in the kitchen, that smelled like pie of course, with far too many people crammed around a small table, sharing seats, and eating a meal made purely out of pumpkin as the rain fell down outside.
Walking into town to Aroma and the prolonged orgasm in our mouths.
The absolute beauty of election night. The energy pulsing through the air. Sitting in the lecture center, one voice counting down with the news and the eruption of screams, and applause, and joy as Obama was officially projected to be the president elect. Turning to Hector and hugging each other. Running outside and continuing to yell and jump up and down. Hugging Iris and twirling her around. Walking back into the building, passing someone I barely knew, just looking at each other for a moment, the embracing each other tightly for a moment, stepping back to look at each other once more, then embracing one another again. I was beaming from ear to ear all night, the first full smile I'd worn in ages, and one of the only ones I've had since then.
Picking more apples than anyone could possibly eat. Getting apple cider, donuts, cheese, and fresh bread. Eating it under a fall sky. The sketchy afternoon that followed.
Sitting in the back seat of Ryan's car with her. Noticing her hand on the seat next to mine, drawing closer. Both using a frightening moment in Ryan's high driving as an excuse to grasp hands. Not letting go until it was time for her to take a hit. Again, awkwardly inching our hands closer and closer together on the seat until the pinkies were touching. Entwining fingers, turning and shyly smiling at one another. Sitting on the couch in one of the lounges of Hill, awkwardly of course, glancing over at each other, talking, playing with our hands, the soft, gentle adventure of the first kiss. The sound of her voice as she shyly asked when we parted ways at 3am if she'd see me the next day.
The night before we left campus, walking with Briana through the snow at 2am. Both deciding to instead head to the benches in front of the library to smoke, for old times sake. Sitting there, just talking, as the snow fell around us, making everything seem so bitter-sweet and unreal.
The Mustardplug concert. Skanking until I was sore and could no longer move. Feeling that freeness course throughout my body. The genuine happiness and relief. Being at home sitting with a group of ten people at Steak and Shake at 1 am in Grand Rapids and realizing the affection I actually did have for these people.
Going up to the gazebo when I got back on campus after intersession, seeing her, and sweeping her up in my arms, hugging, swirling around, kissing. Giggling like the giddy teen-aged girls we were. Sitting in her room, opening the origami box with the bracelet inside and the note saying she really did mean it when she said I shown like the sun. Looking at each other, smiling, just holding each other, feeling each other in our arms. Standing outside Hill, oblivious to the people sitting on the benches, just looking into the others eyes, mumbling sweet nothings. Her holding my hands and telling me "this just feels so right". Not being in a clear state of mind, and me believing the words she said anyway. Feeling her skin, her body. Two girls, entwined throughout the night, nothing to separate her skin from mine, asleep with her curled up against me, my face in her hair.
Everything falling apart.
Welcome to the present. People keep telling me to live in the now, not to stress out to much about the future and just take life as it comes. I wish I could do that. But I like my memories, their somewhat subjective spin. I find myself wishing I hadn't been so high last semester, regretting the haze the past five months have become. But then again, not entirely. I don't think I regret anything, really. I enjoyed myself, my company, my life. I just wish it was clearly defined, congruent.
Now I'm in the awkward place where I don't know where to go, what to do. The stage in between here and there. I've adjusted to The Rock, but the situations and people that helped me adjust, don't serve the same role. Walking into the dinning hall, I always have someone to sit with, that's not a problem. I have friends, plenty of them. When things are breaking apart and pieces of my life start to unravel, I don't lack the presence of people who care, people who will listen, hold me in their arms as I cry and tell me that it will be alright. That understanding and acceptance exists in numerous places. But still I seem more or less alone. Maybe alone isn't the right word, but unattached. I truly love some of my friends, deeply, there just isn't that person, or group of people. However, I'm not even sure how necessary that is anyway.
If you hadn't noticed, I gave up on making this coherent and ordered a long time ago.
The past segment of my life comes to me in little snapshot, maybe clips from a movie or photographs. I don't think it's a result of the drugs, just those fragments of my life that pop out of the mundane mold, that seem slightly surreal in nature. That words, at least my words, can hardly do justice, but I feel compelled not to let them fade away.
Sitting at a split in the beer gardens at night, huddled with Sarita, Briana, and Ellie, not talking, just sitting with our arms wrapped around each other under the trees and stars.
Nights at Lake Mansfield. Sitting on the picnic bench, looking out over the lake, looking at space...
Sitting on the beach with Anna, blurred, trying to create something with the wrong pieces.
The exploration of a body. Action and reaction.
Basement of Kendrick dancing. Meg Mac running down, tugging on Anna's arm. The following night. Paint.
Again, in the basement of Kendrick, eating a dinner Ryan cooked for us. As we sat around the table the night following the incident, realizing we were no longer children.
My complete breakdown. Walking away from Anna, feeling the tears that had been threatening to escape all week broke loose. Sobbing as I ran into the woods and up to handicap parking, just thrashing through the woods in search of the comfort of friends. Five hours of tears, no longer for any specific reason, simply because I couldn't stop them, because they needed to come.
Making pumpkin pie in the mods. Twice. And the memories of those instances have merged into one. There was a cool fall day, and a rainy one. But we carved the pumpkin. All of it. By hand. Six beautiful pies, by far the most delicious I have ever tasted, whether it be the fresh ingredients or knowing that you made the slice of fat from scratch. Then sitting in the kitchen, that smelled like pie of course, with far too many people crammed around a small table, sharing seats, and eating a meal made purely out of pumpkin as the rain fell down outside.
Walking into town to Aroma and the prolonged orgasm in our mouths.
The absolute beauty of election night. The energy pulsing through the air. Sitting in the lecture center, one voice counting down with the news and the eruption of screams, and applause, and joy as Obama was officially projected to be the president elect. Turning to Hector and hugging each other. Running outside and continuing to yell and jump up and down. Hugging Iris and twirling her around. Walking back into the building, passing someone I barely knew, just looking at each other for a moment, the embracing each other tightly for a moment, stepping back to look at each other once more, then embracing one another again. I was beaming from ear to ear all night, the first full smile I'd worn in ages, and one of the only ones I've had since then.
Picking more apples than anyone could possibly eat. Getting apple cider, donuts, cheese, and fresh bread. Eating it under a fall sky. The sketchy afternoon that followed.
Sitting in the back seat of Ryan's car with her. Noticing her hand on the seat next to mine, drawing closer. Both using a frightening moment in Ryan's high driving as an excuse to grasp hands. Not letting go until it was time for her to take a hit. Again, awkwardly inching our hands closer and closer together on the seat until the pinkies were touching. Entwining fingers, turning and shyly smiling at one another. Sitting on the couch in one of the lounges of Hill, awkwardly of course, glancing over at each other, talking, playing with our hands, the soft, gentle adventure of the first kiss. The sound of her voice as she shyly asked when we parted ways at 3am if she'd see me the next day.
The night before we left campus, walking with Briana through the snow at 2am. Both deciding to instead head to the benches in front of the library to smoke, for old times sake. Sitting there, just talking, as the snow fell around us, making everything seem so bitter-sweet and unreal.
The Mustardplug concert. Skanking until I was sore and could no longer move. Feeling that freeness course throughout my body. The genuine happiness and relief. Being at home sitting with a group of ten people at Steak and Shake at 1 am in Grand Rapids and realizing the affection I actually did have for these people.
Going up to the gazebo when I got back on campus after intersession, seeing her, and sweeping her up in my arms, hugging, swirling around, kissing. Giggling like the giddy teen-aged girls we were. Sitting in her room, opening the origami box with the bracelet inside and the note saying she really did mean it when she said I shown like the sun. Looking at each other, smiling, just holding each other, feeling each other in our arms. Standing outside Hill, oblivious to the people sitting on the benches, just looking into the others eyes, mumbling sweet nothings. Her holding my hands and telling me "this just feels so right". Not being in a clear state of mind, and me believing the words she said anyway. Feeling her skin, her body. Two girls, entwined throughout the night, nothing to separate her skin from mine, asleep with her curled up against me, my face in her hair.
Everything falling apart.
Welcome to the present. People keep telling me to live in the now, not to stress out to much about the future and just take life as it comes. I wish I could do that. But I like my memories, their somewhat subjective spin. I find myself wishing I hadn't been so high last semester, regretting the haze the past five months have become. But then again, not entirely. I don't think I regret anything, really. I enjoyed myself, my company, my life. I just wish it was clearly defined, congruent.
Now I'm in the awkward place where I don't know where to go, what to do. The stage in between here and there. I've adjusted to The Rock, but the situations and people that helped me adjust, don't serve the same role. Walking into the dinning hall, I always have someone to sit with, that's not a problem. I have friends, plenty of them. When things are breaking apart and pieces of my life start to unravel, I don't lack the presence of people who care, people who will listen, hold me in their arms as I cry and tell me that it will be alright. That understanding and acceptance exists in numerous places. But still I seem more or less alone. Maybe alone isn't the right word, but unattached. I truly love some of my friends, deeply, there just isn't that person, or group of people. However, I'm not even sure how necessary that is anyway.
If you hadn't noticed, I gave up on making this coherent and ordered a long time ago.