Wednesday, June 10, 2009

solitude.


Things always fall apart during my senior year. I have always been the one on a different pathway, slouch bag hanging on my shoulder, the latest mp3 player blazing in my ears, and a notebook in the palm of my hand. I spent most of my high school years in the nooks of the library avoiding the stares of girls who always whispered that I'd never amount to anything. The bucked teeth, glasses that were always too thick, and stomach that used to spill just over the top of my jeans didn’t help either. Towards the end of high school after the Apollo night where I spit my first poem to my peers, things began to look up. Pats on my shoulders in the hallway, smiles from boys who’d never glanced my way twice, and friendships began to form. They began to respect the little girl who’s notebook was always snatched with the question of, “Why you always writing, nerd?” They began to read what I’d been writing in the school literary magazine for years. However, more importantly, they began to listen.
I find myself here again my senior year of college, in a nook, with a journal, and my music. That nook has become my computer desk, the tunes now blast from my speakers, and my hundreds of journals stare at me from the dresser. What would they tell me if I read them over one last time? How about stories of the borderline gay kid who always made me laugh and kept me on my toes? Or the drama queen who’s drama wasn’t quite drama at all. Perhaps, it’ll share anecdotes of the girly girl who brings grown men into a room adorned with Hello Kitty. The point is, all the inspirations that have helped to fill those pages are slowly disappearing. The graduating class of 2009 has dispersed my associates to different states. The ones who are nearby have all decided to procreate and surrender themselves to the institution of marriage (j/p) and are drenched in responsibility. No, this isn’t a rant about how my friends have forgotten about me. This is more of an “I miss you” note. I’m missing the people who love me genuinely, and didn’t have to hear a poem, to start listening.

-riv-

Listening is a magnetic and strange thing, a creative force. The friends who listen to us are the ones we move toward. When we are listened to, it creates us, makes us unfold and expand.

-Karl Menninger-

4 comments:

Jewel Imaging said...

Lovely testiment... I think we all need to remember to really appreciate the people who loved us before we had any form of success. Congratulations on finishing college!

Militankerous said...

Omg, I miss you too Eri. And I'm coming. We're hanging out as soon as I get there. Don't cry. We'll go see a show on broadway. Or visit the library. Or just hang out in the house and finally post one of these videos we keep recording everytime we get together to procrastinate. And thanks for the lowkey shoutout in the post. I loved it. Lol. I love u boo. I'll call u.

Ziggy Za. said...

You're blessed! And I'm sure that you'll acquire many more true friends like that whereever you are because of who you are. :o)

Mocha' said...

When you have friends who held you down before everyone knew you,and continue to support you,that is somethng quite special.
I hope you all continue to remain close.

Love the new banner,by the way!