I realized something the other day that hit me pretty hard. You always know a realization is good when it’s got some kick to it. Unfortunately though, the kick does hurt, even if it is enlightening.
See I had this idea in my head of the most wonderful place I could possibly imagine. I could imagine it well because it was a time of my life that I’ve already lived and sadly, has passed (as is the ever changing state of all things). I look back indescribably fondly at those days. I’m not ever sure why. I remember being absolutely miserable during most of them. Yet despite that, I’ve become infatuated with this idea…with this number.
I’ve been seeing hints of this realization lately, in people and places I once used to go during those days. This magnificent idea that was planted in my head about being young, having good times, living with friends, being free, debating issues until the early hours of the morning, sitting on my back porch with the people I liked best, music playing in the background and everyone just talking about anything and everything. I see incense burning softly in the living room, the sweet smell filling up the whole house. I would listen to stories from a good friend I considered an older brother, about the adventures he had. I longed for those adventures. Having a few drinks and everyone telling each other how important they were in each others lives. Randomly deciding to go climb mountains first thing in the morning, waking up hung over and going right back to the pub for another pitcher, discussing life and its meaning, encouraging each other, getting way too involved in video games, realizing how good life truly is and making plans to enjoy that fact to the fullest.
This beautiful idea in my head, this concept of immense community and friendship that I have molded my life after, I have discovered is shared only by me. Yes, this is my realization. This concept only exists in my head and a concept involving all of my friends where none of my friends share in that concept, is one of the saddest things I’ve ever come to understand.
I believe at one time, everyone understood what it meant, everyone who was a part of it. But as I should’ve known, all things change. What I don’t understand is why everyone else has had such ease moving onward yet I cannot figure out how to live without those times. So I search. I single handedly do everything that requires more than just myself and all I feel is misery and frustration.
How on earth did you all move on? Teach me please, I’d love to learn. If this isn’t what we are about anymore then what are we all about? Or are we even about anything? Perhaps what we are now doesn’t even involve me. How tragic.
I blame one man….well actually maybe two – him for planting this majestic seed of a utopia of friends and greatness and me for growing that shit into the biggest damn utopia tree ever.
I can’t imagine life without the people I see every day. Unfortunately for me that day will come but I just don’t know how I’m going to make it through that when it happens. All these unexplainable feelings I have that overwhelm me constantly make it difficult to make sense of anything. I’m always so nostalgic about everything. I always want to go back but never forward. I know in the back of my mind that things aren’t as good as I remember them but there were those particular moments back then, when I felt more alive and had more meaning than I ever thought possible.
On rainy days I feel it a lot. The grey sky calmly dropping hints of rain as I drive around town, music blaring, staring at the mountains and the water. All I can think of is all the times I was there before and how for some reason, those moments mean something more to me then this moment now, no matter if I’m by myself or if someone’s with me.
People, friends grow up, move away, get married, have kids, travel, disappear or just stay put. Why is that concept so difficult for me to come to terms with? I don’t want my friendships to change at all. I don’t want anything to change. It’s a selfish thought I know, yet it plagues me constantly.
Life is beyond perplexing. As I struggle to hold onto what I cherish, I recklessly stumble down a path of self destruction. And as I try to relate the last of the untranslatable thoughts in my head in writing, I do not feel better in any way. Whooo, go me.
Life goes on, and it’s dragging me along whether I want to go or not.
*sigh*
It’s dragging me too man.