14 November 2008
♥ i wish my room had a fireplace
It seems, today, that my life is a series of ill-advised reality checks; the kind you stumble onto despite your friends' well-intentioned advice to the contrary. More often than not, I find myself wishing my life were a work of fiction, more of John Cusack holding up his boombox in Say Anything or Princess Buttercup realizing without doubt that Wesley is her one true love.
Today we ran along a trail I never knew existed. We ran alongside the creek, along banks so steep that one false step would send my tumbling helplessly into the icy water. The creek is shallow and I almost wonder if it wouldn't be so bad to be dragged down the creek, if the cold water would make me feel numb all over and I could forget everything I am tired of remembering. I wonder who would save me, because although I want you to think I'm independent, that I don't need you, that I'm fine on my own, I want nothing more than to see your face as you pull me out of the swirling creek.
I keep thinking about how disappointed I will be when the boys get over their summer loves and move onto winter girlfriends, and how hopelessly and categorically replaced we will be until winter has passed and we are once again the female best friends, at least in the interim. Then I will be sad again when we are replaced for the summer. I wonder if it's bad to be so selfish. I wonder but I don't especially care.
We ran past the hobos, huddled under the bridges with their bags of who-knows-what all around them, and I wonder what circumstances were so dire that this life was their best alternative. We pass a park, where a beaming father pushes his toddler on the swings and a cheerful golden retriever bounds down the hill after a frisbee. I wonder if I will have a life like that someday. I wonder if I will ever slow down long enough to cherish moments like those.
But we don't slow down. We keep running. By the time we get back, I am as numb as if I'd fallen into the creek.
11/14/2008
