And if one day you lose someone who stepped too soon off the sidewalk, or who took a fatal trip, or whose life worked against all odds, do nothing more but appreciate the breaths they took and the life they lived.
We can ask our loved ones to stay indoors, to lock the windows, to lay in blankets. We can ask them to stay in the comfort of a shelter, in protection. We fear we’re not strong enough to handle someone else’s pain so we tip toe around the truth that loss is inevitable and pain is survivable.
No matter the path we take or the speed we go, when it comes down to the crash, our life is in as much jeopardy as everyone else in the car. So, don’t let a day go by without remembering, life is never a question of how they died, it’s a question of how they lived.
You waste time convincing yourself you’re at an awkward age. The feelings will pass when the stage does. Everyone goes through it. You remind yourself that every tomorrow is a new day. That means a new promise to be a better person. To do more, to be more, to be happy. Weeks pass and many tomorrows have since come and gone.
Some days your bed is the only comfort you have. Some days your dog is the only companion you need. Some days tomorrow will be an impossible thought. But one day the bad days, will be just another day on the calendar, getting lost in the idea that life’s not all that bad.
We can’t understand people. We can’t understand why it takes them to lose you to miss you. To hate you to love you. To misunderstand you to get you. We can’t seem to open our eyes and like what we see so we close them tight and dream for better. But more often then not, better never comes, because better is what you have. We’re too quick to let go and too excited to move on. Sometimes the very something we’re moving on from, is the very something we’re looking for.
Crazy is hiding behind fluent sarcasm. It’s the distorted reality you lose yourself in, the dilated pupils you look through, the humor you use to dismiss the things that matter most. Crazy is your confidence that you can spend your life fighting the way things are meant to be, the way they’re meant to happen. It’s looking at life with eyes that say run. It’s beauty in ways you can’t understand. You’re running in circles wondering why the view is the same. You’re living your life with simple hopes to get by. You’re cursed with a brilliant mind you live to resent.
If you heard someone cry would you hug them? If you watched someone trip would you pick them up? If you felt someone die would you save them?
Day after day we can save someones life, we can show them the light, we can share what we know. We should all be so lucky to find someone whose seen the dark for those people know how to shine light when we need it ourselves. But sometimes the people who have seen the dark, leave their problems there.
Sometimes we’re scared of hugging, in fear of them holding too tight. Sometimes we’re scared to pick someone up, in fear they’ll pull us down. Sometimes we’re scared to save someone’s life, in fear we will forfeit our own. And sometimes we’re scared to share the lessons we learned, in fear of turning around.
We met by mistake. Just a passing conversation after a night at the bar. I resisted the walk home, the drunken conversation seeping with confessions, the sincerity in your voice as you asked, will I see you again? I eventually gave in, unaware of my misstep into the rabbit hole, mistaking attention for affection.
It didn’t take long for things to play out and you to back out.
Our relationship became toxic and played out as comfortable repetition. We started to mindlessly speak. We spat empty threats and clenched angry fists is the most frustrating arguments. With you came a sense of desperation. It started with me screaming my bottled up feelings and it ended with you, and your dumbfound look. I refused to walk away without a goodbye. Without telling you about the chaos in my mind. Without convincing you my insanity went away when you did. You never gave me the chance. You never let me speak. You taught me the unsettling truth that we can’t get closure. We must live with our words left unsaid.
Alcohol is a fire burning inside you. It’s blurry vision with sentences of words, all melted into one. It dances on your tongue with the taste of confidence. Stories walk the line of honest exaggeration and fear of rejection is replaced with morning after regret. It’s a spilt vessel of poison, , an illegible message in the bottle, a plea for acceptance, hidden beneath confessions of love and blistered dancing feet.
Alcohol brings out the worst. The emotions, the authenticity, the anger. And when you wake up with a pounding head and queasy stomach, you put on a poker face ’cause you just showed all your cards. You showed people who you really are. The vulnerable, misguided person you’ve spent years building a wall around. You’ve created an image for onlookers, but alcohol will break down the wall and reveal your true self.
Our teen years fixate on the popularity of the girl with pretty long hair and a drinking problem. The jock like boyfriends that will bend over backwards to hold their books and the instant glamour that can be found when accessorizing with pink. It’s the kind of life we hate to want.
We try to make a normal so far from what we know, but it’s a matter of time before we realize people don’t change, they simply can’t. We can fight who we are for as long as we have the strength but eventually it’s inevitable and we give up the act. The twenties come with a lot of hardships, a lot of obstacles we must overcome but while we’re occupied with the more serious problems in life, we forget to pretend to be someone else. There is no better time to embrace who you really are then a time where no one has a clue.
Of course we want perfection. We want the best picture, best job, best hair.
But perfection is when you see his crooked teeth beyond the gap of his smile. It’s the scar on your arm from where you fell out of a tree at age eight. The way you hold your fork the wrong way and the phobia you’ve hid for so long. It’s the way your moms voice echoes through the house and the family bickers on Christmas day. It’s the times someone stutters mid sentence, the times you fall asleep on the phone. It’s the way you snore in your sleep when you dream of perfection. But what society won’t tell you, is that perfection is imperfection and imperfection is perfect.
I’m sorry you got caught in the wrath of a troubled, self-destructive girl. I’m sorry you were the one to grab my hand, just as I was falling off the edge. You marked my insecurities and took advantage of my unhealthy habits. You knew how I cringed at the whisper of a compliment. I lost comfort when your hands reached for mine and I surrendered my ability to defend myself, time after time. You used my moments of weakness against me. Insisting I was the reason we would never work. It’s a relief you’re behind me. I know I didn’t lose my prince charming. In our fairytale, you were the Jester and I was simply the joke.