I wish I could dream myself a part in all the unrealized promises we inscribed into the air with our fingers. It must be a trick of the heart to believe we can filter through history so easily. It’s all about misjudging distance and time. It’s convincing ourselves the present moment is anything other than the present. It’s pretending like our two scripts are naturally part of the same narrative.
Friendship, present tense, the kind of wind that pushes the sail instead of whispers, is so often the distance between your fingertips and mine: and only sometimes as far as both our ropes will lasso–judging that both of us are willing to hold on. The future is a quilt. The future is the moments we weave together in the present to arrive in a mutually interconnected space.
The end of any college semester is both a relief and heart breaking. High school was easy. Everyone you know is close: the faces familiar. This is not true of the University. I have not maintained a meaningful, day-to-day relationship with anyone outside of my classes, and once the classes are over so goes the relationship. I think people are more comfortable using my mind than knowing it.
Going out for coffee once every 2 months and “catching up” is not friendship. That doesn’t mean that I don’t still admire and love the people that I meet and know; however, how does one actually catch up? How do you rewrite your past to include someone who was never there? How can you take seriously the proposition of someone listening to you when the second you walk out the door they’ve already forgotten you because literally you are a fraction of a fraction of their daily existence?
The end of the semester is always daunting because it feels like while I’m progressing, I’m also resetting. It’s funny how coming out of high school I actually bought into the idea that college would be “the best four years of my life.” I think the better phrase is actually “the next four years of my life.”
You go at life alone and hold to those who follow close behind. Apparently, I’m not much to hold to. Here’s to hoping that will change.