Pull My Hair
its really winter time right now. there is one main path at school that allows you to wind around to your next class inbetween three sturdy stacked feet of snow. things are needless to say, being covered up.
walking to school every morning before its light out, wishing for things, trying to make things happen, just isn't working. there needs to be some kind of rejuvenating beneath the wreckage that is just going to re-surface again after the snow melts. it makes me sick thinking about it. it's weird not being able to talk to old friends, its weird remembering how i left old friends. its really, really cold outside to not be driving in a warm protected vehicle. my face feels flat, my hair flat, feet curved, and brain at a standstill.
someone who was at a time very close to me died recently. my (old) best friend's mother. i guess i'm having a lot of difficulty reminiscing back to those beautiful days of riding our bikes down hills super fast after buying hampsters from the pet store, making our first attempts at smoking cigarettes, contemplating the stars for the first time on the top of her mom's car past our bed times. its hard remembering the innocence we had and seeing how we've gotten light years from it. her mom was the first parent to answer any questions we had about sex, or anything grose we didn't want to ask our parents. she was a lesbian as well. we all loved her, she was our cool parent that we didn't have. they are my old friends though, which also disturbs me. there's something about not coming to meet the real world on time that really separates friends when they go to college. I was no angel out of high school, trudging deep through fucked up love and massive amounts of rum, but I also wasn't shooting up heroin or railing this drug or that from a dirty bathroom stall. I feel a little bit of guilt for leaving, for making no attempt to help. But I guess I also knew that my words meant nothing to her. Now her mother is gone, and she is probably going to be even more gone. But god, I hope not. It's always good to feel closure in things, but its limiting when you set the standard for what the closure would have been after the options are closed. permanently.
Then again, how much concern can I have for someone whose title reads- "fucktard"
New York is quickly approaching. Its a couple hours away. There's lots of little knots in my stomach I've been shrugging off with crazy laughter and over eating. The things I was stressing over are starting to feel meaningless. Things that once used to make me simple and happy no longer exist as much as they used to.
walking to school every morning before its light out, wishing for things, trying to make things happen, just isn't working. there needs to be some kind of rejuvenating beneath the wreckage that is just going to re-surface again after the snow melts. it makes me sick thinking about it. it's weird not being able to talk to old friends, its weird remembering how i left old friends. its really, really cold outside to not be driving in a warm protected vehicle. my face feels flat, my hair flat, feet curved, and brain at a standstill.
someone who was at a time very close to me died recently. my (old) best friend's mother. i guess i'm having a lot of difficulty reminiscing back to those beautiful days of riding our bikes down hills super fast after buying hampsters from the pet store, making our first attempts at smoking cigarettes, contemplating the stars for the first time on the top of her mom's car past our bed times. its hard remembering the innocence we had and seeing how we've gotten light years from it. her mom was the first parent to answer any questions we had about sex, or anything grose we didn't want to ask our parents. she was a lesbian as well. we all loved her, she was our cool parent that we didn't have. they are my old friends though, which also disturbs me. there's something about not coming to meet the real world on time that really separates friends when they go to college. I was no angel out of high school, trudging deep through fucked up love and massive amounts of rum, but I also wasn't shooting up heroin or railing this drug or that from a dirty bathroom stall. I feel a little bit of guilt for leaving, for making no attempt to help. But I guess I also knew that my words meant nothing to her. Now her mother is gone, and she is probably going to be even more gone. But god, I hope not. It's always good to feel closure in things, but its limiting when you set the standard for what the closure would have been after the options are closed. permanently.
Then again, how much concern can I have for someone whose title reads- "fucktard"
New York is quickly approaching. Its a couple hours away. There's lots of little knots in my stomach I've been shrugging off with crazy laughter and over eating. The things I was stressing over are starting to feel meaningless. Things that once used to make me simple and happy no longer exist as much as they used to.