I've never thought about the concept of the indescribable. As in a moment, an individual, a sensation. I just expected words to be powerful enough to convey anything. To reinvent any moment and breathe life back into it. But last night I found it all to be otherwise. It was shown to me that, for example, if you know someone so well and love them you can't seem to describe them. You can't thrust five adjectives on to them and label them like a package. And after thinking about it - that is exactly the way it should be. If you love something enough you shouldn't be able to sum it up, narrow it down, confine it to limits. Think about it. Well, last night was indescribable. At the moment I could have spoken about it in the most poetic prose. I could have matched the perfect words with each individual feeling. And now, hours later, I can't find even one word for it. Sometimes you realize that no word could give something justice and if you can't give something the credit it deserves, you choose not to try.
The hardest thing about last night was not crying. I do all these small things to try and contain myself. My two front teeth bite down on my lip and I close my eyes so no one can witness how glossy they have become. I felt like the weakest girl and yet simulatenously the strongest as I sat on those steps staring into nothingness. And it was then that I knew how fragile I am, how young and hopeful. There are times when the air feels different, where every face amongst me blurs and I become completely captivated in a trance that for the time being is incapable of being broken. Sometimes during these moments I feel inspired, reconnected, content. It is a feeling that comes and goes, long enough but never often enough. And so in order to hold on to it I take something with me that held my eye at where ever I was. One time I bought a necklace that says Persevere. It went with the mood I was feeling and wanted to always remember. And it may be years before I take it off. But there are other times, like last night, where there is nothing around you that you can buy to remember a place or feeling by. And I guess that's when you hold on to the person you shared it with.
Soon enough, I'll have nothing to go by but mailed letters. Distant voices and starved feelings. I'll look for something I have now, just so I feel comfort and I will do just like I told myself not to. But sometimes when you want to do your best, you start doing your worst because you feel like if other people hate you, you now have the single reason to hate them. This summer is one I won't forget. For all those that I always wanted to return to, that promised new and better things after throwing their back to me - I now know, I never will choose to return. You should only give yourself to someone once and if they took advantage of all you gave while you were giving it, you are far too deserving to give love a second chance, to give hope a chance to live. He asked me if I knew how many people were out right now looking for what we have, for this. And all I could think was how I use to always be that girl. Outside, alone, searching for something, anyone that would give me one chance to swoop them off their feet or would swoop me off mine before I even had to try.
What We Had August 3 2005
This summer I've learned that the best things seem to last the shortest. Coming the quickest and leaving us the fastest. As if it never existed, merely a name etched out in the sand, washed away by the tide and to be forgotten like a chill breeze on our back. Meaning something momentarily, but capable of being no more than just a milestone on one path out of the twenty seven thousand in one's life. It is something I have always been most fearful of; putting time into something and then having to walk away from it, just to watch it disappear. Three months erased from your memory as if they never existed, as if he never existed, as if the two of you never were, as if it was no more than a faint dream in the night. Lately when I'm laying in bed at night or when I'm in the backseat of a car I trail off. I think about the letters I am going to write to particular people before I go. I bite my tongue so much that I know that a letter will be the only way to get a few thoughts out, to breathe existence into all I wish I had said. I just want certain people to know how they affected me - the girl who may appear to never be affected by anyone. I suppose it will be a final touch on something that I may never return to. I mean call me crazy, but whose to say that once I leave I won't put people behind me and they won't put me behind them? Nothing is ever enough. There is that line, "You can never be too thin, too rich, or too young." Well nothing can last long enough either. Once the moment is over I always think about how I wish I had held on to it longer. Gone slower just to heighten the existence of the moment at hand. The rush only speeds up the reaction to the realization that the moment is no longer there. And from there we only have a memory and a memory is always intensified or weakened by one's imagination. The best things leave us at their best. We have to walk away when we like them most. And I think that is the only way to do it, because then at least we appreciate what we had.
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