(no subject)
in high school, i fell for boys like they were a drug - in an instant, without much hesitation or further consideration. but before the boys, there were a few girls, fun and carefree enough for me to come alive in front of. she is perhaps the best example of them, the way we could pass an entire school year with a single inside joke, elaborating from shouting out names for our made-up "emo" band during creative writing class, to her making me a cd, complete with a booklet of lyrics and pictures of us she cropped from the original 4x6 kodaks.
i was home for less than five minutes yesterday, stopping by to give my mom a hug on the way to drop one of her better friends off, one that stayed in touch when it wasn't as effortless, one who immediately felt the gravity of what she would forever miss. i'm able to stay one step ahead of it. this morning i returned to my apartment, 800 miles away from the mourners, 800 miles away from the closets in my chlidhood bedroom where i know that homemade cd case and handfuls upon handfuls of evidence from our once upon a time friendship rests.
it still hasn't hit me. there are people you grow up with who you cease to worry about, because you watched them tranform from quirky and adolescent, to fiercely beautiful and compelling. people you assume are invincible by virtue of their innate goodness.
it was with her that i swallowed mouthfuls of grenadine, deciding that the resultant sugar-high had to be like being drunk. it was with her that i wrote the name of a crush that would become my first love on my stomach with sunless tanner, because we were hyper-active at one of a hundred sleepovers. it was with her that i spent a year in creative writing class, befriending all the older boys, feeling awkwardly proud whenever she would compliment my innate ability. it was with her that i had my first sips of alcohol (bacardi to be exact), deciding a few moments later in my hot tub that we would run topless through the cornfields that bordered my house. it was her that gave me a bag full of reminders that it was okay to still be childish when i turned twenty. it was her that no matter how long it had been since we talked i felt like she still understood me, still bothered to read what i wrote in here, still bothered to think about the quotes i posted in my profile, asking to borrow what could be my favorite one, by pablo neruda - i want to do with you what the spring does with the cherry trees.
and the truth is, if there was ever anyone that had an effect on people similar to the effect that spring has on cherry trees, she did.
i just hope she knew it.
♥