Saturday, September 26, 2009

It was the best of times, and the worst of times

I always used to make fun of people who said that. Or people who would say "High school will be your best memories" or "You'll look back at university, and those will be the best years of your life." I thought it was ridiculous. The best times of your life are when you're living at home with your parents, thinking sneaking a drink or a joint was amazing? The best time of your life is moving away from everything you know, and being young, drunk and dumb? That's ridiculous.

Well yeah. It kind of is. And... it's kind of wonderful. Two of my dearest friends from University are getting married. They will make the 3rd & 4th of my roommates to get married- as a bonus to me, to they're getting married to each other. I'm going back out east for their wedding at the end of October, and the memories are flooding back. It's not the drinking, or the parties, or the classes, it's the memory of sitting with my friends, under the stars, on the bridge, staying up all night and stumbling in at noon after falling asleep under the stars, on the bridge. The best times were sitting in your room, listening to music, and dreaming of tomorrow- the tomorrow that surprisingly came true for both of us.

I remember the party, where the kid did four hits of acid, and we were young, dumb and scared, so we threw him out. We bought him a cab, and we didn't know his brother had just been hit by a train.

I remember freezing, cause we thought if we acted like scared wild animals, you couldn't see us.

I remember walking over to the bar in our pajamas, and having it feel more like home then home did.

I remember having classes where the professors not only knew my name, but where I lived, and cared about how I was doing.

I remember going for drives, just to see if we could get lost.

I remember the 24 hour diner, and the pizza with the sweet sauce.

I remember walking through the waterfowl park, while the ducks slept, but the fishers hunted

I remember losing you. All of you. Every one.

I remember how sometimes that town felt so wrong, and I still wonder what happened that still echos so painfully at night when there's no other noise to drown it out.

I remember when I wasn't surrounded by concrete and steel, but wood and grass.

I loved falling asleep under the stars, on the bridge.

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