Streams of Memories (An excerpt from on old journal entry of mine that I came across. I think my mind set was interesting for a tenth grader.)

You never did walk me home that night. Remember you said you’d walk me home because you were going to talk to a friend who lived by me anyway or something of that sort. So strange how we can remember the most mundane things. So strange how we can just as easily forget them, the most mundane things. Like watching a scene on an old black and white film. Instead you went home and I walked home all alone in the dark. Because the stars were my companions I was contented and humbled by the lonely stillness. There were no lights to blot out and take away from the starlight evanescence because all the lights of the town had gone out. And the night echoed with all the remaining knowledge and memories that laid untouched in my heart.

I remember sitting next to you by the lake, you told me you heard from your sister that I thought you were attractive. I told you, yes that I thought you were attractive. I never had the heart to tell anyone I never seemed to  be able to find a solid attraction in people my own age. If you weren’t an all together  middle aged person or dead, I had no sincere interest in you. Though that wasn’t conflicted without effort  I felt something shift within the strange radiation that curtained between us. Like a premonition of all our souls had to say that had gone unnoticed. You said you thought I was cute too. I was afraid to tell you that the lost uncertain look in your eyes was what held my gaze with an almost sustaining interest. And when you said I was cute my stomach dropped and my heart slowed to a shallow flicker. Something broke between us then. The distinction was then made that I was a women and you were a man. Reality settled in between us I never felt like a women. I just kind of floated on the surface of existence observing the passing moments. We sound like little kids looking back. Like lost children grabbing for what sweets we could get from the bitter world of life’s pinata.

Remember that day you took off your clothes down to your boxers and went swimming in the lake? I really wish I wasn’t feeling so upset that day because going back I would have just enjoyed your trust and openness. You rarely ever gave into fragility without the courage and shield of a drink…You meant that much in that moment. Such a distraction from the worries. A sort of relief. Almost a revelation to observe and behold how the smallest obscure details can fit into this image of carelessness. Almost to say look life is not so serious. We are all naked and can look ridiculous or free depending on the perception.

That day you got super drunk and wouldn’t talk to anyone….I was so humbled that you broke down and talked to me of all people. Though I am not certain why you would choose me over an understanding male friend who would relate easier. It means alot to know I was someone you could trust with your worries and fears. I was so content to just sit there and listen to you even though you were unhappy. I was so content with just being your friend. Because you were such an interesting friend, when you were not hiding from me. I studied each overwhelmed word and with a sudden burst of uncertainty urged to comfort you. Sometimes silence is better. Sometimes silence is comfort enough and being heard is all the solace we need. Your eyes were so blue with distress like an oceans raging storm. For a moment it was like tempering the hopelessness inside myself. Words burst forth from my soul trying to reassure the reflection of me in the crashing water of you. I clashed with the discomfort of uncertainty that radiated from both of us. It was beautiful the way the destruction of vast loneliness upon the stillness of the sea was disturbed by the storm of a hurricane. I was enchanted by both of our behavior. Beguiled by the vulnerability of being and the yearning for comfort from it.Such starving need engulfed both us. Such a remarkably strange comradery.

Remember when we were laying on the grass looking up at the stars? It was so dark but I felt so stagnant lying there with your head on my stomach, listening to you chatter on about life’s miscellaneous details. Contented to have company. Amused by your choices of conversation. Like studying a movement in stern concentration. Laying there with you in silence was all I could have asked for. Amongst the array chaos. There was the two of us in a seemingly confined world. Untouched for that one retrained moment. Levitating above the discombobulation of life for just one sustaining moment. I almost felt normal. Almost felt the humanity everyone talks about. A rare moment indeed.

Remember when we were walking towards the lake and I was upset. I relayed some disheartened comment. You then said I touched your heart. I felt your compromise for my honesty that you never asked for. And so I replied “I thought you didn’t have a heart remember?” I wanted it to end at that, so you didn’t have to feel like you had to sacrifice anything for me. You said ” I didn’t” then you looked was down at me and said.”but I think it’s slowly growing back.” I thought, “that if more than what I could say for myself.”Oh the corniness of our childish bantering. I searched to find the totality in your words. Were they for my benefit or yours. Hard to believe you would go through such an effort for me being as the fact remained that I was hardly a step up from an acquaintance. Right then you made my heart shutter because I felt the distance between your reassuring words and I. I became aware of how out of reach I was from even the people I was surrounded by everyday. How nothing seemed to completely touch me anymore. I felt like a phantom looking in on life whilst deceiving everyone otherwise. Creating a seemingly normal illusion of a teenage life. Witnessing all the details but not feeling the impact of any of them. That’s all I really wanted all along. Hope, for you to believe in and somehow love yourself. For you to not be anything like me. Searching for any semblance of actual existence. If you could make it then maybe I could piece together pieces of my life. Maybe even touch something existential. These realizations only come to the surface with you. Strange. Perhaps some people really are meant to reveal parts of you. Perhaps that is the essential purpose of the word soulmate. But what do I know?


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