Most of you are alive, but to me, you only continue to exist on the page. Specifically, the pages of my blog.
The structured black words on my blog have memorialized most of you, so if you ever forget about those times we stayed up too late, got in trouble, kissed, or argued, you can probably find those memories here. They did happen, I promise. I was there and I wrote about them.
I’m not saying this because I’m trying to prove something to you. I don’t need to prove anything. Believe me or not, the evidence that we associated at all is here. It’s just a little unsettling sometimes.
My writings are all I need to be flung back into the past when we sat next to each other at dinner, slept next to each other in bed, or were even in the same room together. Every time I read my old writings, it’s like watching a movie I hadn’t seen in years. I know how it ends, but I forgot the journey to the ending.
But then again, that is why I maintain a blog: I write about the journey so I don’t forget.
Most of you that I’ve journeyed with are gone from my life, yet your impact is undeniably relevant even to this day. Your impact lives in my words on the page.
Thank you for sharing some of your time with me.
“I’m not just taking trips down memory lane; I’m broken down on it.”
-Pete Wentz, Gray
Ever since I posted my most recent blog, I’ve been reflecting a ton on my past. I read through nearly every post on here, which is around 400 posts, and I’ve been going through old photos…I usually wouldn’t think too much of it but all this reflecting has been keeping me up at night. So…I just wanted to comment on what I’ve been thinking about.
I’ve been thinking about coming out again which caused me to reflect on my journey that led up to it as well as what transpired after I came out the first time. (Speaking of which, I wrote this interesting creative piece with an analysis about it for a class last fall. I will share it here eventually). I’ve been thinking about my previous relationship, friendships…and how my relationship with people that are still in my life, family included, have changed. I’ve been thinking about my senior year in high school, how I want my senior year in undergrad to go, and about what I want to do after I graduate.
None of these things are bad thoughts…but it’s a lot of thinking and it’s impacting my focus on the responsibilities that I have now and how I feel throughout the day. I’m worried, anxious, I brood…I’ve had enough. Especially because these thoughts keep me up until 3am and I can’t continue to have these sleepless nights.
Anyway…I hope by tonight or tomorrow I will be able to resume my life in the present…no more trips down memory lane for me.
Also, a good update: my stitches are out and the lab results are fine! I have another doctor’s appointment tomorrow at a new place because the current office I’ve been going to has an awful environment. I’ve only spoken to the people at the new place on the phone but they’re already significantly more pleasant!
Which reminds me of a theme that is apparent in my writing that I’ve noticed since I’ve been rereading it all: don’t accept where you are if you are unhappy. Right now, after this brutal semester, I feel pretty happy. I’ve been productive, social, and working on myself. I’m a little stressed about what’s to come, but I don’t want to focus too much on that anyway. I want to focus more on the present…take it day by day.
I’ve been rather depressed since my cousin’s passing. Depressed, scared, and pensive about morbid things.
I’ve been thinking about death…what was it like for my cousin to die? It makes me feel bad to think about that since the accident was so violent…but it also makes me sad to think about how her last feeling may have been fear. It hurts me to think she may have been in pain too, although the doctor said she died upon impact, but who really knows? Maybe they said it for our sake.
Three years isn’t a long time in the grand scheme of life, but at my age (I’m nineteen), it feels substantial.
Three years ago I was in high school, which is a completely different world in contrast to college. I was a minor at age sixteen and in the midst of my downward spiral of depression. I also lost my best friend three years ago. Not “lost” as in death, but “lost” as in, no longer friends.
I lost most of my friends three years ago, but only one of those losses wasn’t my fault. That loss hurt me the most.
The cold, blue chains froze and stained my bony fingers as I gripped onto them, swinging.
Up, up….down, down…
I loved the rush of ascending into the sky, only to be pulled back to Earth by the blue chains.
Up, up…down, down….
Birds flew in a “V” overhead, and I relished at the sight of their dark bodies agains the bright, fiery colored leaves that dangled loosely from the trees. Every little breeze snapped the bond between a leaf and the tree, causing it to float down onto the browning grass.
Up, up…down, down…
I liked to bring my friends to the swings in my backyard, but it wasn’t really the same when they were with me. I didn’t enjoy the changing of the seasons when I was with them, instead we talked about crushes and ate boxes of Girl Scout cookies, sometimes serenading each other to stupid love songs.
Up, up…down, down…
Closing my eyes, I imagined myself flying away with the birds, feeling my hair being pulled behind me as I flew upward…but when my hair was blown back into my face it was a reminder that the blue chains hindered me from leaving.
Up, up…down, down…
I liked playing music while I swung, but sometimes I enjoyed the quiet and whispered to the trees all the troubles I was having at age 11, 12, 13…
Up, up…down, down…
My mom called to me from the window that dinner was ready.
For a second I was free of the blue chains, free to fly, but when the blue chains weren’t there, damn gravity always pushed me back down.
© 2014 Vic Romero
**image from Google
“My brother is getting married in two weeks,” she said thoughtfully. “It’s crazy.”
“They’ve been together for awhile, right?”
“Since college,” she replied.
“I used to think that when I turned twenty-five I would get married,” I confessed. “That’s kinda soon.”
“Yeah, I’m already twenty-two…so that’s three more years for me.”
“In three years I’ll be twenty-two.”
“What if we got engaged?” she asked.
“What if I bought you a ring for your twenty-first birthday?”
I paused. “Well I guess I would legally be allowed to drink…so I’d get us champagne.”
She smiled at me before resting her cheek against my shoulder. In that moment I felt safe and secure…like I had found the one for me.