Depth Over Distance
By Hillary T., Walnut, CA
Author's note: Hillary T enjoys habitually marveling at the little things life carries. Here is here deep... Show full author's note »
Inexorably InfiniteWhen the song you've loved for so long begins to remix itself in your head without your permission- you stop listening to it for a while because it sounds so foreign inside your hopeless ears. When the sound of a car passing is amplified - so much so that you feel like it's steering head on into your heavier-than-normal chest bones. When the task of simply going outside seems like an unattainable, overwhelming, and out-of-body experience. You finally get there and every sensation you feel, every sensation is just throwing their duties into your judgment at their maximum strength. You look around at the people sitting with you, at the stars, the full moon, the palm trees and it's as if everything is a 3D movie about to start - right before you put the glasses on that take away all of the blurriness and uncertainty. Every touch, every question, every little thing rushes through your whole body like knives being thrown in slow motion. You sweat your tears, but begin to shiver from the cold heat. Why are we here, why are we here, why are we here. You touch the warmth of a lamp and it becomes an addicting sensation you've just felt for the first time and then you frantically ask yourself 10 questions a second, the carpet starts to blur, your hands change color, the music you know so well slows down, the lyrics "let me out" ring louder and louder and next thing you know you're scrambling out of the room pushing open the door like it's the last day of school. The world slaps you in the face and nothing is ever the same again. 5 minutes of excruciating exhaling and its all done. It won't ever make sense to me how the majority of the world will never feel this; are we the lucky ones? Are we the crazy ones? Or are we the stupid ones? My eyes see the Earth through the corresponding spectrum, through the opposite sides of binocular lens. I lie on the couch to silently panic and write this because as you hugged me and said to me a sentence that meant more than many things may ever mean to me... I didn't know how to answer it other than by saying “I loved you.” So I want you to know as I shut my eyes on your shoulder for a moment listening to you as you softly said "the morning will come,” I fell apart because how do we know that the morning will be there when I open my eyes, how are we to know that this isn't all a big nightmare? How are we to know that everything we ever thought we wanted is just a big joke? But there's a joke somewhere. And it's on me.
And to remember that a year ago I sat against the back window in class fighting the idea of climbing out and thinking to myself "When will my life begin?" Who said life couldn't stop and start when it felt like it?
And my life stopped that day.
And my life also began again, I think.
I don't want to run just because you run, I won't listen just because you can talk, and I won't sit just to watch you walk the same old walk. How could I believe your perimeters, when you've always taught me how to build my own? Caring isn't respecting and respecting isn't caring - do both.
You are the red paper cups that you’ll never completely fill, webs of mascara that run in the bath, I’m here to pour another glass and to fill yours, to lay down tonight and feel my chemicals change. I’m here to divide truth and rearrange consequence. I’m here because I have no reason not to be, and I would know. I’m here to touch every single thing parents and teachers told me never to explore so I can crash so low, there is only up from where I’ll be. I’m here to grab hold of that which I do not know and memorize its shape. I’m here to flick one more flame and play another song. I’m here because I want to stay up until three a.m. tingling with fingertips that try to say the thoughts alive inside my head, and the way it felt in the front seat with you, I am here with vulnerable thin skin and courageous muscles that ride the crest when my joints try to melt like crying ice beneath the waves of Venice beach. I am here because I’ve got a reason to find and just because it’s not yet within my reach does not mean I predict it doesn’t exist. It exists.
In hopes to inspire what I fear most,
to be exposed in experiences inexorably and infinitely.
I don't care what you say about my race, life style, personality, or dancing, but don't ever try and tell me I'm not sensitive to beauty. I am blunt, careless, last-minute, and rude. I hurt feelings; I’m sarcastic, bright-eyed, young, and hopeless. But the smallest things in life are what make me so happy that I continue on with my life because I know I'll be alright; That we will all be alright. The most primal, humdrum, everyday perks are so radiant. That is my Christmas Eve and I hope you won't forget. Show me dandelions, fresh newspapers, some old lyrics to songs or hand-me-downs, and I will marvel them for days. Or show me a dog that has blue marbles for eyes and I’ll watch it eat it’s food wondering if it sees the sea all day, a New York skyline, an honest dance, a song that makes you question everything.
I'm in a cold puddle of tears.
The more I observe this bitter Earth, the more I find the beauty behind the first line. I have learned that sometimes when you dig you only find dirt. But sometimes, if you dig deep enough, you’ll find specks of gold. And the older I get, the more these gold secrets mean. So find your own gold pieces. Dig for them. Hold them in the palm of your fragile heart. Untie it. Let its contents come sprawling and spilling out. Experience what people say you shouldn't. Book that plane. Drop that phone. Sleep on the floor. Take that makeup off. Delete your Facebook for a while. Good luck; to my own healing life as well.
Whatever you are, be a good one.