When does it ever get better? When I wake up, and find out that on the morning of my birthday some kid from my school was killed in a car accident? He was a year younger than me, and I used to see him around. He didn't always make the right choices, but he was a decent kid. He died six hours after celebrating his seventeenth birthday with his girlfriend, after dropping her off at six in the morning. It's just such a fucking useless way to die. Everything that we hold dear, everything that we deem precious, seems so vulnerable and tragically undeserved and precarious and in danger of falling into the brink of some vast emptiness from which there can't ever be a return. He didn't need to die, he shouldn't have had to leave his family behind like that. Every time they turn around they try to find his smile. The sky is bright; he should be here seeing it with us. It's snowing; he should be right here complaining about it too. Never hearing half a breath, never being able to touch him, see him, and laugh with him; that is the finality of death. And that's the unfairness of life. Everything is balanced haphazardly on the edge, and sliding towards the gaping chasm all the time, and we try so hard to scrabble our feet and grasp something real, when everything is headed for the same inevitable nihil. I cry for a stranger, I mourn for his family and I grieve for his girlfriend. My heart aches because what they are going through can never be justified. No one can restore normalcy, and no one will ever be able to restore life. It's so beautifully and unjustly fragile we hold it in our hands, a thing to be feared and wondered at, and never really realize how absolutely final it is. You are loved and missed so much, watch over your family and Kristen and your friends from heaven. Rest peacefully for eternity Marco. Words can't express the absence you leave behind. Happy birthday.
posted by MissSolitaire, 19:23 | link | comments (4)
I woke up to a grey and rainy day, and wondered why I should make the effort. I pulled the covers over my head in hopes that the day would just lay down and die, that the sun would hide its clouded head and night would let me fall asleep again, but opening my eyes once again reality sank in like a fallen stone. Like a somnambulist I wander aimlessly, it seems, through this house that's known no name, through this room and that one, trying to figure out where and why I come to places. And to venture outside means I have to face the day, with the sky that watches everything staring down at me ambivalently. Who would have thought that turning eighteen would be so lonely? On this day of mine all I wanted to say was that I'm so, so sorry and that I never meant to say or do the things I did to you. I can't explain myself, you don't know who I am, but it was never your fault for not realizing the stranger underneath my skin. I've given up wandering and all I want is the way it used to be, so I'll sit here by the phone and wait for you to wish me happy birthday. I'm very human, you know, and I feel hurt and pain just as you do. Don't be so afraid to talk to me, because we've already been forgiven. Happy birthday to me.
posted by MissSolitaire, 14:54 | link | comments (9)
I feel this cloud of vague but pressing urgency growing ever larger above me, and the thing that bothers me most about it is that I cannot locate the source of such an uncomfortable feeling. Earlier this year it was college applications, unfinished and ever-leering from the top of the desk, that made me feel as if I'd be physically ill every time I looked at them. Well, that's all done and over with so what else is left to give me this disgusting nausea? Don't know. Actually, I know, but it's unsolvably evil. Have you ever had the feeling as if you were about to cry at a moment's notice? There is always this imminent sadness swelling inside, but that's so typically me, always threatening to fall back into some strange melancholia or despond that's eating away at my heart. I've forgotten who I am... I woke up this morning and realized that the world is beautifully and fearfully created, in perfection and truth. One does not have to look farther than the impersonal world outside our window to see that in the end, metaphysical arguments and unanswerable rhetoric is irrelevant when everything that is pertinent, is answered right here. Then, I wonder what love is, and what it really is, and is it worth it, and I have to say that I don't know...We all make oaths of love and eternity, promises to hold each other through whatever, to always "be there" and to trust and care, but when it comes down to the individual, alone, unconnected, aren't we all selfish? Is it not insignificant? I find it sad that I am incapable of transcending petty animal traits - avarice, paranoia, mistrust, unfeeling - so that I can find what is really worth my time. I may find out one day. Or I may not.
posted by MissSolitaire, 23:30 | link | comments (1)
