Looking Up

Time and memories are probably two of the strangest things that anyone will ever encounter in the course of their human experience. I’m really not sure why I was in a mood to write what I did last night, but I was wrong.

Maybe it’s just me, but when looking back on past events I tend to have a hard time remembering just how bad the bad things were, and somehow the good times seem to look a whole lot better after sticking a few years in between me and when they actually took place.

When I was back in high school, my life really did suck. Besides the normal teenager things that I had to deal with, I also had the severe depression, the drug addictions, and other things. While it’s true I had some people who were much better friends to me than I ever was to them, my life back then was nothing near what I remember it to be.

Unless I make a conscious effort to try and remember it, I almost always forget just how depressed I was. My memory seems to stop short once I recall the fact that I WAS depressed, but won’t bring up how badly I needed an escape. It doesn’t bring up how I was able to slice myself up every night and create scars that still look new, even seven years later. It doesn’t remind me of just how at the end of my rope I was, and how close I came to doing so many bad things.

When I try to remember the people that were my friends, my memory tends to polish them up a bit. In all honesty, even the people I was “closest” to back then didn’t really know me and I didn’t really know them. I couldn’t tell you their favorite colors or foods, couldn’t tell you anything about their childhoods or their families, couldn’t tell you of any of their plans or hopes or dreams for the future. And I’m pretty sure none of them could do any of that for me either.

Perhaps my mind unwittingly takes the way events really happened and merges them with the way I used to wish they’d happen, and tries to convince me that it was reality.

Thanks to Allie and Tina’s little talks though, I think I’m over that. As much as I complain about my life and how I’m not satisfied with it and all, it IS much better than it was back in my “glory days.” Am I still depressed? Yes, but nowhere near like I was. I have a decent job, am paying off my debts (which I had a lot of), and the best friends I could ever ask for.

Ok, I need to elaborate a little on those last nine words, because one little phrase doesn’t do them justice. Although we live over 300 miles apart, I have friends who I care about more than I ever thought I could.

I’m not a naturally caring person. I really don’t give a rat’s ass about the majority of humanity. I rarely truly care about acquaintances or even people who I see on a regular basis. I’m not sure if I’ve ever really loved anyone for real, as in caring enough about them and who they really are to do damn-near anything for them or to take care of them and keep them safe.

Yet somehow, over the course of a few years and hundreds of hours online (as well as an occasional weekend of face-to-face hanging out) they’ve taught me how to care, and what it’s like to truly love people (not all people, just them. Don’t want people thinking I’m a people person now). We’ve had tons of chances to laugh together, as well as chances to help each other through some pretty hard things.

It really was pretty stupid of me last night, and any other time that this has happened, when I think back at when I was still a teenager and wish I could go back. Even in the wildest stretch of my imagination, I had nowhere near what I have now.

One thing that’s kind of funny, in a really strange way, is that everything that I’ve gone through in the past seven years or so that I regret, somehow led up to me meeting my friends. The drugs, the overdose, the time in the hospital, the 13 months in treatment, the three years I spent trying (and failing) to find God, the engagement to a psycho that turned out rather badly (yet it wasn’t ALL bad since I was smart enough to break up with her) all were sort of steering me on a course to meet them.

Last night, in an act of being overcome by half-truths from my mind, I thought that I wish I could go back and undo all those “regrets” and have things work out with my old friends. After pondering a little more truthfully, I would never do that. I wouldn’t give up anything, even the deepest holes in my heart and my past, if it would mean that I’d know any of them any less than I do.

So Allie, Jen, Tina, this is as much an apology as a thank you. I’m sorry for not seeing just how fortunate I am to have you all in my life and for sometimes taking that for granted. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me and everything you’ve taught me (even if it was just a natural byproduct of us being together). Pretty much everything that’s important to me somehow comes back to you, and I know that you all are a big reason that I have anything good in me at all. I love you all more than I could ever say or show.

Wow, this almost sounds like a suicide note…good thing it’s not.

*
“This is my life
It’s not what it was before
All of these feelings I’ve shared
And these are my dreams
That I’d never lived before
Somebody shake me cause I
I must be sleeping
*
Now that we’re here, so far away
All the struggle we thought was in vain
All the mistakes, one life contained
They all finally start to go away
Now that we’re here, so far away
And I feel like I can face the day
I can forgive, and I’m not ashamed
To be the person that I am today
*
These are my words
That I’ve never said before
I think I’m doing ok
And this is my smile
That I’ve never shown before
Somebody shake me cause I
I must be sleeping
*
I’m so afraid of waking
Please don’t shake me…
*
Staind

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