Tuesday, June 7, 2011


I put a picture of him in my room.
It's just a tiny wallet-sized senior photo from like four years ago. I found it in my own wallet while I was digging through all the crap in it to find my insurance card. For some reason, I have a hard time throwing away useless things like old receipts and expired promotional cards. That little voice in the back of my head goes, "As soon as you throw it away, you'll need it!" Yeah, okay. Maybe if I need some kindling when I become a hobo or something.


The picture was shoved between some old receipts from restaurants in the Black Hills and a punch card for a free drink at Java City. I had been tacking pictures of friends and family to my bulletin board, so I figured it wouldn't hurt if I tucked him in between them, since I wouldn't ever throw it away. How could I, when I still keep $2.76 receipts? I stuck the tack through the top of the picture, just missing the top of his hair, and went about my day.

Later, as I was packing up my phone and purse to go to band rehearsal, my eyes wandered for a second over to my bulletin board, full of friends and people I love. They scanned each face, happily, until coming to rest on his face. I stepped closer to examine it, nose almost touching the picture.

The picture was old, even two years ago. He was only seventeen in the picture; three years before he died. His face was much thinner, and his hair longer. A neat black button-down shirt just barely blended into the background, and his hands rested on his legs, one on each thigh, the way photographers make you place them to look "natural." I looked at the hands for a while.

I used to think that his senior pictures were the best thing ever. Any picture of him was great. I know I at least cared for him, if not loved him, while we were together. If I didn't, it wouldn't have been two and a half years. Yet, as I looked at the face, the hands, and the hair, I realized I don't see very much in him at all anymore.

I know that I have moved on...at least enough to stop obsessing over what happened and why, and continue on with the life I deserve.

I can also tell that I'm getting farther and farther away from him, and that dark place. It's getting more and more difficult to write about it. I still want to write my book, and maybe get it published, but I just can't seem to find the inspiration or the right state of mind to properly describe and analyze my feelings and experiences. Most of the time, I'd rather go watch movies with the guys, hang out with Alex, or talk to my friends. I can feel that old part of myself slipping away more quickly than it has before.
I know this is a good thing, and that it needs to happen.

I just don't want to get too "used" to having it easy. I don't want to take people and situations for granted. I could tell it was starting to happen with Alex, and I almost lost him.

Assuming things will always be fine, or that someone will stick around for you, no matter what, is not a good thing to do. You can trust them and be comfortable with them, but do not assume you know them or know how they will react. People change, feelings change, and situations change. The only thing you can do is care about them, and always try to do what's right. Apologize when you hurt someone. Tell them that you care about them when you think they should know....and even when they don't. Even better, SHOW them that you care about them. Often, actions are more convincing than words, and are more appreciated. Do things that aren't necessarily fun, but will make life easier for someone else. Don't expect - ASK.

That picture made me have another dream. No matter how good I feel, I don't think those will ever stop.

This turned into another serious, existential rant, didn't it?
Eventually, at some point, I'll be able to get the humor back into my writing.
Oh, well. Lo siento.

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