Unlflinching Relevance
I hope my life doesn't boil down to waiting once again every day for a letter from a far away fantasy. Distance makes things work, and this primitive form of communication develops both mystery and romance. Maybe just on my end of it, but it's worth writing a thousand fictional short stories in my head to replace my memories. A vacation away from the same old days full of the same old stories. I can write the same old words here, but I'm getting quite bored with that...there are only so many times you can repeat yourself before routine turns into insanity.
Seeing the family this last week was nice as always; interesting conversations that I actually felt involved in for the first time in my life. It's sometimes nice to let go of high school life and the everyday broken chords, and have time to regain oneself among those who know you best. A Friday night spent with good friends around a fire leaves me content...the laughter and unaswerable questions of life rang through the darkness like a beam of truth in the usual world of chaos. A Friday night spent thinking about what life will be like in ten or twenty years leaves me empty...the stars and the endless expanse of the 1:00 AM air makes room for uninterrupted contemplation. It was the first time in a long time that I was able to clear my mind for more than a few seconds and focus.
I see my friends around me preparing for the rest of their lives - talking about which college they'll be attending, whether or not their grade point average is 'adequate', what they want to do with the rest of their lives - this makes me feel foreign and strange. I've got my general ideas, and my foolish dreams of course...but I have yet to map out the path that I'll be taking let alone walk it. It's hard to think that I will one day forget what I've been living...these friends and enemies, the weekends and this boring town, the peacefulness and the static...more important things await years past now. I might never think about someone again, and that scares me in a way. I am too entranced by what each person I know...I am too entranced by what they have given me in the past year...two years...four years...ten years...I have grown based off these people. They are not simply random faces in a crowd I cannot navigate...they have given me so much. A few years from now, when we have all 'grown up' and moved on to new and exciting lives, will they simply become blank portraits on the page? Will they simply become ghosts of fading memories? Will I?
Some day, we will all simply become records and awards...names on a list and pictures on a wall...we will become statistics. It takes so much to change the world; it takes so much to be remembered once you die...I think people are scared of that. They are scared of becoming just another human that was born, lived, and then died. Everyone wants to be important; everyone wants to be unique. It is hard to say whether or not these preparatory years of our lives will present us with a chance to really make such a difference, but if not...the change has already been made within us all.
I can keep having my dreams of grandeur; these goals and silly aspirations that are usually only found in story books. What better way to live forever than like a book on a shelf? Let's all dream of the perfect song for our ending credits, and never forget that we are each unique and alone in a sea of six billion dreamers.
Seeing the family this last week was nice as always; interesting conversations that I actually felt involved in for the first time in my life. It's sometimes nice to let go of high school life and the everyday broken chords, and have time to regain oneself among those who know you best. A Friday night spent with good friends around a fire leaves me content...the laughter and unaswerable questions of life rang through the darkness like a beam of truth in the usual world of chaos. A Friday night spent thinking about what life will be like in ten or twenty years leaves me empty...the stars and the endless expanse of the 1:00 AM air makes room for uninterrupted contemplation. It was the first time in a long time that I was able to clear my mind for more than a few seconds and focus.
I see my friends around me preparing for the rest of their lives - talking about which college they'll be attending, whether or not their grade point average is 'adequate', what they want to do with the rest of their lives - this makes me feel foreign and strange. I've got my general ideas, and my foolish dreams of course...but I have yet to map out the path that I'll be taking let alone walk it. It's hard to think that I will one day forget what I've been living...these friends and enemies, the weekends and this boring town, the peacefulness and the static...more important things await years past now. I might never think about someone again, and that scares me in a way. I am too entranced by what each person I know...I am too entranced by what they have given me in the past year...two years...four years...ten years...I have grown based off these people. They are not simply random faces in a crowd I cannot navigate...they have given me so much. A few years from now, when we have all 'grown up' and moved on to new and exciting lives, will they simply become blank portraits on the page? Will they simply become ghosts of fading memories? Will I?
Some day, we will all simply become records and awards...names on a list and pictures on a wall...we will become statistics. It takes so much to change the world; it takes so much to be remembered once you die...I think people are scared of that. They are scared of becoming just another human that was born, lived, and then died. Everyone wants to be important; everyone wants to be unique. It is hard to say whether or not these preparatory years of our lives will present us with a chance to really make such a difference, but if not...the change has already been made within us all.
I can keep having my dreams of grandeur; these goals and silly aspirations that are usually only found in story books. What better way to live forever than like a book on a shelf? Let's all dream of the perfect song for our ending credits, and never forget that we are each unique and alone in a sea of six billion dreamers.
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