(A kind of vent)
I am currently off an hour of sleep and a potentially grade-damaging decision, so mind me, but I am so fucking unbelievable sad about N-----. She's really opened up to me in these last couple of weeks. We've spent good, multi-hour stretches either on the phone or in my apartment shooting the shit. She told me I was her "best friend right now," given all the shit that's been going on with Z-- and whatever. I'm holding back tears in the train station thinking about it. She's so lonely. All she wants is a community, and she thinks she's found it in our friends. I think she has, too. I believe we all have. I'm just overwhelmed with the weight of it. That's not to say that it's too much, by no means. It's to say this is so fucking important to me. This is something I ought to guard with my life.
We tell each other often, "As long as we stick together, everything will be okay."
-
When you both feel like rotting corpses, and you each reveal yourselves as such, you dance together in spite of it. You sing songs about your rot: about teenage lunch periods spent in the washroom, of pummeling lovesickness. The two of you tangle together in that song. For a moment, you love that you hurt, because you're seen, and you're seeing. You're goth kids, no longer alone.
-
People believe in you up here. They think you're smart and creative like they are. You're one of them. You think of all the moments they've told you that, all the "If you got your shit together, you could do whatever you want." You remind yourself you can do so much more than you've done, and you have a whole band of diehards in there with you, and you realize for the first time in your life that it doesn't have to hurt so bad for long. You're months away from it finally being over. All those nights, all your dreams, all those sweet words, the crescent moon: you're being saved. Here come the warm jets.
