(Excerpt)
Life isn’t where you are.
It’s where your loved ones are.
It’s lying in the crook of his arm at 2:00 AM, your flushed bodies pressed close, arms wrapped tight, hearts beating feverishly and in sync, breath slow, and you’re so afraid because you know morning will come soon and he will be gone again.
Life is never knowing how he feels, bodies gyrating and twisting and moving together, you open your eyes and watch his face as it tenses with physical reaction, and you wonder, always wonder, is this the only time I have his full attention, is this the only way I know to keep him near?
Life is crying in the back of a dirty car as it drives you home packed with drunken teenagers, before so proud you had had fun all night without him, then realizing you spent the whole time assuring yourself you didn’t need him…you’re crying so hard but hiding it, hiding it so no one knows how much this hurts you, physically tears at you to watch him smile, laugh, your fists are clenched, body tense, brow furrowed, so no one knows how this person has ripped your self respect to shreds. Your hands cover your wet face, you’re breathing heavy, wanting so bad to just forget.
Life is not where you are.
It’s left behind back where you thought your loved ones were.
When you look back at your life, you remember so little of the events and facts and words exchanged. All that remains is the strongest emotions that the people you meet along the way arouse in you, the way that person made you feel about yourself. Those raw emotions, those gut wrenching feelings sear through your body irrationally and dive deep, deep down into your conscience and stay there forever, warping your memory into something that might not be factual or fair.
I had a dream last night, a tornado of past images and soft voices. I saw Liz’s face, shining and bright with that huge smile and gleaming teeth, giggling because of something I mutter under my breath as we walk out of the courtyard. I see her head tip back and eyes close, body doubling over as she lets the laugh ride through her body, take over her limbs and muscles completely. She embraces this emotion so purely and wholeheartedly because to be happy is what she lives for. That laugh is what I’ll remember most, that signature guffaw that you can recognize immediately as hers even over the roar of the loudest, drunkest ’07 party.
The dream shifts and twirls, colors flashing and spinning away, and suddenly I am in Starbucks coffee on the upper deck in junior year, smiling so hugely as I watch the faces of people I love. I sit there, as I have so many times with Liz, Thomas and Arlo, and I feel more comfortable then I ever have. The bond between Liz and Thomas is electric, magnetic, and I could swear I saw the buzzing sparks fly between their bodies as their fingers intertwine under the table. My chair is scooted sweetly towards Arlo and as I play with the fabric of his jeans under the table I feel his warm hand close over mine smoothly and subtly as he talks without pausing in his speech. Thomas is playing with sugar packets and stirring sticks on the table and we make fun of him as he fails in his attempt to construct a house. My attention is on Thomas but as always, I drift on a cloud as a single face floats through my subconscious, the one to the left of me, the one I wake up and cannot wait to touch, the one I can barely believe is sitting right here watching mine. This face, a beautiful face, grinning and gurgling out that ridiculous giggle, hands smooth and tan, smelling so good I feel faint when it hits my nostrils. I remember hope. I remember feeling a bond so delicate and precious I didn’t know what to do or how to maintain it. All I could do was ride the wave.
I wonder how much of it was real. For 17 years, I have been so deeply rooted in my own emotions, reactions, interactions, sitting nervously on a tiny throne deep inside of my brain, observing all the happenings of the wicked world through my narrowed eyes only. I wonder how much really mattered, and which was only a speck of insignificant motion in my community, this society, or this universe. How much time have I wasted analyzing inane aspects of my life, pointless statements and words spit out, preparing and executing actions that made little impact on anything besides padding for my ego or confirmation of my supposed importance. Or how much time have I wasted worrying about fruitless relationships that bring me nothing but confusion and empty promises? What, in life, is worth it? Am I here to help others, find my own niche in the world, discover my greatest assets and talents and spend my life expanding and displaying them to better the community? Or should I just get by however I can, not expecting anything extraordinary to come from this random life given to me, in this random moment of time and random location in the universe?