Sleepless Nights
Going home always leaves me restless when I have to reclaim my life as the Floridian/student/not as popular/not always the center of attention - me.
I ache for all my friends to be in the same bar, drinking the same beer, singing the same songs, retelling the same stories. As I looked out over the group of people that went out with me on Friday night, I felt happy.. I felt connected. I felt crazy because I wanted to talk to everyone, I wanted to talk till dawn, I wanted to see into everyone's hearts that night.
I also took my mom to see Rent that day, and she missed it - she missed the fact that people are dying to be let in, to be a part of you. I want to shake her - and shake the christian people that won't even try to meet people because they are afraid that they may actually understand them. I want to shake the people that work with elderly and hate them because of their dependence, who treat their loneliness as a communicable disease. Let them in! Let them feel alive!
A lot has been on my mind since I've returned to my place here, and the years of hard work that I never even knew was work - building relationships, knocking other ones down, all the emotions and passion that I have put into people and that other people have poured into me.. how do I ever let it go? How do I ever feel lonely? People all over the world are carrying parts of me with them. I have parts of everyone with me - as little of a mark that I've left on the world, I've gotten connected, I've become a part of people. Please dear God, don't ever let me forget to let people in.
I don't know how the kids in my family have turned out so different than our parents. If my mom hates something, she says she hates it, and never wants to speak of it again, she wants to pretend it doesn't exist. Am I like that? Maybe, but I hope I'm not. I think when I hate something, I want to talk about it until it's beaten me to a bloody pulp, flip it over and over until I can understand all of it, I want to breathe it, I want to see it, I want to taste it. How people are content with "say no to drugs", "don't have sex", "don't fight", "do the right thing" blah blah.. how do they do that? Don't they want to know? Don't they want to struggle? Don't they want to live? Is it easier to fight against the unknown? I would rather fight a friend, then I know what I'm giving up...
Parts of me feel strangled when I'm at home, parts of me feel strangled when I'm here. I am never satisfied, never completely quiet inside.. I don't know if I ever will be. I don't know if I ever want to be.
Going home always leaves me restless when I have to reclaim my life as the Floridian/student/not as popular/not always the center of attention - me.
I ache for all my friends to be in the same bar, drinking the same beer, singing the same songs, retelling the same stories. As I looked out over the group of people that went out with me on Friday night, I felt happy.. I felt connected. I felt crazy because I wanted to talk to everyone, I wanted to talk till dawn, I wanted to see into everyone's hearts that night.
I also took my mom to see Rent that day, and she missed it - she missed the fact that people are dying to be let in, to be a part of you. I want to shake her - and shake the christian people that won't even try to meet people because they are afraid that they may actually understand them. I want to shake the people that work with elderly and hate them because of their dependence, who treat their loneliness as a communicable disease. Let them in! Let them feel alive!
A lot has been on my mind since I've returned to my place here, and the years of hard work that I never even knew was work - building relationships, knocking other ones down, all the emotions and passion that I have put into people and that other people have poured into me.. how do I ever let it go? How do I ever feel lonely? People all over the world are carrying parts of me with them. I have parts of everyone with me - as little of a mark that I've left on the world, I've gotten connected, I've become a part of people. Please dear God, don't ever let me forget to let people in.
I don't know how the kids in my family have turned out so different than our parents. If my mom hates something, she says she hates it, and never wants to speak of it again, she wants to pretend it doesn't exist. Am I like that? Maybe, but I hope I'm not. I think when I hate something, I want to talk about it until it's beaten me to a bloody pulp, flip it over and over until I can understand all of it, I want to breathe it, I want to see it, I want to taste it. How people are content with "say no to drugs", "don't have sex", "don't fight", "do the right thing" blah blah.. how do they do that? Don't they want to know? Don't they want to struggle? Don't they want to live? Is it easier to fight against the unknown? I would rather fight a friend, then I know what I'm giving up...
Parts of me feel strangled when I'm at home, parts of me feel strangled when I'm here. I am never satisfied, never completely quiet inside.. I don't know if I ever will be. I don't know if I ever want to be.
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