A Happy Entry

Well, David, after you read my blog you said that, though you loved it, you wished there were more entries about happy times in my life. So, while my freshly nuked mac n' cheese is cooling down, I'll write a little diddy about today - which was happy.

Happy is really an understatement. It was the second best day I've had since I got here (the first is awarded to the birth of my ingeleh of a niece, Maya.) I went to hang out with Gaby - you know, the one who finds poop almost as funny as you do? - and her boyfriend, James, and their new roommate. The new roomy is a freshman transfer student from Pennsylvania named Kirstin [KEER-ston... Not Kristin. I made that mistake]. She's fucking awesome. She reminds me of Melissa McCarthy. Like, a lot. Kirsten is prettier, though. Anywho, after hanging out at their apartment for an hour or so, we all went to the dining hall to get some dinner. It was outrageously packed. (Lesson learned: the dining hall is basically closed from 6:00-6:30 on account of a severe lack of seating.) James and Gaby went to get their food and Kirsten and I scouted for a place to sit. We spread out and finally some people left and I grabbed the table. Kirsten invited a friend of hers named so-and-so from something-something (I'll remember her name eventually.) She is also fucking awesome. She doesn't remind me of anyone, though. So it was the five of us eating and talking and laughing... for about two and a half hours. It was amazing. As we left, so-and-so said "I'm so happy there's people like me here." I was walking behind everyone as we meandered through the people towards the exit, so I had time to smile to myself and really appreciate the sentiment. A moment to realize how much I empathized with her. The way things had been going before Gaby (and her world) showed up made me think there wasn't anyone out there for me (besides those that I had already found who I couldn't be with.) But no, it's just my fucking roommates that get me down. I just spent the past five hours with a bunch of people who seem to find the same things in me that you do. I've found some people who laugh at the same stupid shit, who care about the same things, who view the world in a familiar way. I do believe I've found some people like me. I've just had such a wonderful day, David. It made me very happy.

Chelsea! That's her name. Fuck.

Memory

One of my biggest fears is that I’ll forget about you. That your touch, taste, sound, smell and true (un-pixelated, un-Skype-filtered) look will fade from my memory. That I’ll forget more of our past and how things were and how we felt than I already have. Three years is a lot of stuff to remember. If I believed in God, I would thank him for giving you such a wonderful memory and an acute attention for detail. (But since I don’t, I guess I’ll just thank your ill mother and absent father, as much as I hate their guts.) Three years is such an awful lot to remember. Not only does my internal memory disk not hold that much, but it corrupts some files that I do have. I just can’t trust it. But you, my wonderful external hard drive, you keep things for me. Thank you.

                I wish I could download my files of you onto you, so they wouldn't go bad. Which they are, every day. It scares me so much, because I want to hold on to you. Everything that you were and are – everything – I need it with me. I need it so I can retrieve it when we’re together again, so I can know where to pick up. So I can remember how far you've come. Thus I torture myself into seeing you as often as I can. To looking through your photos. To remembering you whenever I have time. True, a lot of this happens involuntarily, but I feel it’s partially because my subconscious is trying to back up the JPEGS and MP3’s that are somewhat quickly degrading in quality. And also, of course, because you make me happy. Though, it’s kind of funny, because when I’m sobbing over how much I miss you and am pleading to “the universe” to let you hear me, I’m saying “He makes me so happy.” But you really do. What hurts is not having you here. Not being with you. Not being able to call you my own. Not knowing if you’ll ever come back for me. And if you don’t, you’ll take our memories with you. Because without you… we will disappear. And I just can’t bear the thought of that.

I suggest...

You are so much more than they could ever become. You know that. You know you will rise so much higher than anyone thought you could go. You have everything in you to do it- and you will use all of it. You’ve survived all this time and now it’s time to live. So face the things that are hindering your tools. Think about what a terrible person your mother was for leaving her children. Think about how blind your biological father was for not seeing what every dad should see. Think about how unfair your father was for treating you like so much less than you are. Shame on them all. Put yourself in the darkest and most painful places that you’ve been to. Revisit them. Let the wind sweep the rocks and dust into your skin and beat the hail upon your shoulders while your worst fears and most hurtful memories manifest around you. Stay there. Stay there and don’t come out until the light of your reasoning and strength break through and offer you a ladder to your own salvation. It won’t be quick, or enjoyable, but the feeling when you get out and can wield the tools of your talent, character and spirit will be so beyond worth all the suffering you’ll face. David, you must put yourself there. You’ve never needed anyone, to survive. You don’t need anyone, to live.