Let's Get This Over With, Already.

Let’s get a few things straight now:

A lot has changed in the past year. I can tell you that about six million things besides my age have changed within its borders. That includes physical, emotional, spiritual, you get the picture. I’ve been places that are sketchy and probably terrible ideas on my behalf, and places that I never knew could make me feel so good. Mostly I’ve been everywhere in between. But still, we’re one year removed and one year changed. So, if everyone that has survived the crazy span that has been one year in countless lives, why is it that I’m seeing things that just don’t fit in the here and now? Why do I see words that don’t make sense in this context?

So once upon a time, I went to a place with my best friend 1000 miles away to see kids that meant a lot to us. Yes, it didn’t make sense to almost anyone. Obviously, it still doesn’t make sense to you. I could really care less if it makes sense, because the people and experiences I gained from it far outweigh the crazy stares I got then and lingering comments from you. I am really not interesting. AT ALL. And you insist that we’re not worth your time or thought. So please, by all means, don’t freaking spend it on me, it’s as easy as that.

My best friend and myself really do not think about you. We wish the best in the life that we’ve never been a part of and leave it at that. We never created a friendship, and that happens. Sometimes people just never get around to being friends, case in point with you and I, I guess. It’s not that I ever had a vendetta against you, it was just nature. No hard feelings about it. I don’t think less of you for it. I don’t care if you don’t like me, and I don’t care if situations have caused that. I’m sick of hearing about the latest shit you’ve spun about me. Have you run out of things to talk about? Seriously.

Like I said, I am not interesting. I am not cool. I know that. So… what more do you want? Is it that once upon a time I dated a boy and it didn’t last? I’m not ashamed. Long distance is hard, and him and I didn’t have the energy to make it last. Apparently the friends that I so surprisingly have here were enough for me. You do not know what happened between him and me, so don’t pretend to know. When it comes to you, I know only what I have heard. When it comes to me, you know only what you have heard. I speak of you only when asked for advice, and it’s been a good couple of months since that’s been necessary. I try not to get too involved simply because it’s true, I do not know you. I don’t know your favorite color or what you like to do on the weekends. I don’t know who you are to yourself, who you are to your friends. I can’t say I’ve ever even had a legitimate conversation with you. So why is there this insane hostility that has you thinking of me, “Hi, I’m a fucking creep that lives far away and hates your guts.”

That hostility, that tension; I don’t give a shit about it. I wish it didn’t exist. I do not enjoy knowing that someone out there dislikes me. I like it even less that you have to be so goddamn public about it. Do not talk shit about me to my friends. Do not talk shit about my friends. I’ll admit that what I have seen of you, I do not like, because you’ve really been giving me nothing of the positive side of you. Not that I expect anything from you, or expect that you care what I think. I just want you to know that if I am so lame and friendless and pathetic and creepy and bitchy and terrible, then keep me off your mind and out of your conversation. It’s not worth the hard feelings it causes.

And if you get off on stirring that shit up, that’s your problem, and you have a blast with it. But if you’re a better person than that like I hope to God you are, leave me in the past. Leave my best friend and me in our state 1000 miles away from yours. This petty shit is just stupid, on both sides of the goddamn divide. I have words I’d rather write than this. It doesn’t matter to me if you read this and this it’s a load of shit; I've just had enough. I think it’s awesome you have things going for you there. I think it sucks that you probably have your down times too. I think it sucks when anyone has to go through shit that sucks, and I think it’s awesome when anyone is having the time of their lives. It can be as easy as that.

Don’t think less of my friends there because they’re friends with me. I promise, the apparent poison doesn’t infect my friends. I’m not a shitty person, contrary to what you may believe. I was born with ten little fingers and ten little toes. I’m the youngest of three. I’ve always been a dreamer and I’ve always been scared of the dark. If you hate that, if you hate me, that’s okay. All I ask is that you give up the grudge. I’m not asking you to be my friend and I’m not telling you that you’re not allowed to think I suck. Go for the gold, seriously. I’m just saying that I’d appreciate it if you let go and I promise I will do the same. I put this here because this is the only place you might see it. I have no other way to reach you.

I don’t know what I did to make you feel so strongly about me, but honest to God, feel free to let me know. Feel free to let me fucking have it. It would be so much better if you sent me a ten page long letter telling me why I suck than just telling all your friends about me. Go to the source. Man up. If you have beef with me or my friend, then take your beef to us. I’d really rather hear it from you.

So bring your issues to me, or leave them in the past and forget about me. I’m ready to be done with it when you are.

At Full Speed.

I wish I had a story to tell. I wish I had a story I was dying to translate from mind, to lips and fingertips. Do you ever just want to write something that won't leave a single reading eye dry by its conclusion? Do you ever just want to say everything you've ever held back, no matter how much time has aged it and removed it from memory? I've been cursed, maybe blessed, with an excrutiatingly strong ability to remember. What I had for breakfast three days ago, if I tried hard enough, what happened to me on significant dates.

Dates. The tricky thing about remembering everything and associating it with its slot in the calendar year is that with every month or two or three or four or week or year you remember again. Like that week. It ended eight days ago, and for nine days before it, I remembered. Every second of every day. I remembered grilled cheese and ice cream and day long video games and a yellow dog and a wet driveway and a chlorine covered t-shirt. July 20th had me breathing clean air. Today I remember the way things were three months ago. A mess. I learned that you were gone, farther away than 1000 miles, farther away than I could ever touch with my feet on the ground. You mended so much more than the broken hearts of everyone who lost you that day, just so you know, if you can hear me. I know you would've liked that.

Lucky numbers: 2, 10, 16. Yet 13 isn't bad luck for me, see otherwise: 6, 19, 24. So where the hell is this story I'm dying to get out? If this story's in the making, I'm giving myself nothing to write about but days on repeat and lifeless timepassers. I find light in dark, it's not much of a resolution but it makes me laugh a lot. You can tell this story, because you're giving it life. We're shameless This is what this summer is supposed to be. This is where my story is coming from. Why'd it take me this long to realize that letting go of control is everything I need?

I've been hell bent at staying positioned behind the controls of everything, every aspect, obsessive about making everything go right. This is why i sleep all day, and I'm ready to sleep when I'm dead. I'm ready for things I can't predict. Ready is the last thing I've wanted to be, but ready or not, it's how I want to be now.

Not alone, on a road going somewhere. At full speed.

Whatever.

This time last year, I was in love for the first time.
This time this year, I don't even believe that love is worth it at eighteen.
Today I lived in the past.
I can't decide if I want to keep remembering.
I think I just want this week to be over.
I think I just want it to be July 20th. Or maybe August 19th.
I don't like living on pause.
But the sunlight, sunshine will come out.

Nobody expects to be half a world away at times like these, so I sat alone and waited out the night. The best part of what has happened is the part I must have missed, so I'm asking you to shine it on and stick around. I'm not writing my goodbyes.

Does anybody remember back when you were very young? Did you ever think that you would be this blessed?

I run.

Dear future reference,

Apparently there's some things I forgot to tell you. I have a boss that loved me days ago and hates my guts as of 8:34 am. I can't say I'm heartbroken; I never was into cults anyways. These days, you can't even get your teeth cut out in peace. Salaries and comissions and time pick a limb and pull and I'm thinking that by this time tomorrow, I'll be feeling the pain. You are a huge tool, just so you know, and maybe the biggest asshole I know, yet you try so hard to be everyone's best friend. I'll start respecting you the second you start accepting questions. Where do I sign up to get out, bossman?

I've found myself in far more compromising situations than the one close at hand, but left and right simultaneously felt like my head was resting on a broken swivel. I much prefer left, sorry right. It's like the song I heard that made me spit. What you're thinking and what I'm thinking are far from inches away. Fresh start in T minus 42 days; do you hear me? 42 too few to something worth running away with. It's so goddamn amazing how much I can love my shadow, yet I still find myself trying to run from it at every offhand chance. If there's any chance I could talk you into holding it down for me so I can escape, it would be appreciated.