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 »
The MistakesI talk about the sky a lot in general because every so often, I feel like there’s one inside my empty chest: tongue-tied, star-wide, always in motion, stretching from my thoughts. I remember a lot of things you probably forgot, the things you tossed away like Monday mornings, loose change from different countries, and past versions of the same cell phone. I keep a lot of things for myself. When I was little and I carved my name into my bedroom floor trim because I wanted the house to remember me when I got old and left. And the ways that smoke curled out of your lips like you were making art without effort. Sometimes people do that. They fascinate you without trying. And you have to try to cling onto those marvels without them noticing; you have to try to take that piece of them so that you’ll never forget how even in the most naked of moments, even in the most ordinary circumstances, some things are really that remarkable; and I just need you to know that it’s not that I’m cold, it’s not that I’m stone, because I feel things too. I marvel at the tiniest things you don't even know about yourself, yet I pretend to be that carefree and lighthearted individual you see walking the same path around the roads we've carved around us. I feel the emptiness of being here and never knowing why, yet I feel the fullness of all the nights that ever made me feel like I belonged, those moments when you know that it’s okay if everything is somewhere. But even if you're somewhere you're missing. Out. Here.
When I am not talking I am feeling. Too many reasons not to touch and too wrong because the right song’s on and all the stars have come to show their shoulders to you and we stare in awe at how everything can be so perfect and broken at the same time. You’re here but you're missing out many reasons not to say all of the raw and unashamed things I could have said. There are these lights that hit the sky and hide behind the jaw that binds them with delicate wire. And sometimes they come out when they’re not supposed to but sometimes they bleed dust and fall into the dirt where their graves gave hearts to us when we were born. Because from dust we came and to dust we shall return one day.
How beautiful everything is when you feel it for the first time.
And the last.
I have met a lot of people in my life that ended up being frauds. But that’s not the worst part. What’s worse is that I fell in love with them all for a few moments. Whenever I caught that spark that lit whatever light they were drunk off of, well I just grabbed it with my bare hands and held it until it burned through my palms. And I don’t know what it is about cynics, about inconspicuous generics, about those pretentious individuals that think they’ve got the world stacked between their notebooks with their film photographs of collar bones and Oscar Wilde quotes, that makes you feel like they really believe in something powerful; Only to find out that they don’t believe in anything at all. Only to find out they’re still searching for something real, something they can hold, and something they can fit between all their missing pieces just like the rest of us. But it’s always these people. It is always them. We’ll take any secret they think we’re interesting enough to keep, and we’ll sell it the same way they sold it to us. And I’m so tired of this cheap communication. I’m tired of people feeling inferior based on a wardrobe, a collection of records, what kind of recycled phrases they use. And I get it. Believe me, I understand. It’s just so easy sometimes to let these useless characteristics blind us from truth. And I think that there are a lot of mishaps, a lot of miscalls, a lot of mistakes that are going to be made in this life; but I also think there are a lot of sunsets falling back down, a lot of words worth listening to, a lot of people worth watching, a lot of invincible moments, a lot of invisible friction worth feeling. But I’m afraid that if we don’t start indulging in the latter, the former is only bound to consume us before we even get the chance to realize how stupid we are for paying attention to nothing that means anything at all.
I answer the phone too earnestly sometimes. This could have something to do with the two weeks in elementary school I spent obsessed with dialing numbers I didn’t know, wondering if there would be an answer, another body breathing quietly into the other end of the line. Waiting for a “hi,” a “hello,” an anything. Some confirmation that you can conjure foreign lives through telephone wires, some confirmation that, with eyes closed and arms outstretched, you can still make contact.
I don't know what my future holds but I hope it holds it well. I wrote that phrase on the side of my hand a year ago, but when I read it over I thought to myself, why the future always has to hold everything. Shouldn't the phrase be "I don't know what I will hold in my future" ... your future doesn't hold anything, you hold who you want, what you want, where you want and most of the time things don't hold back. It's not an issue because it's stretching me to my limits but how long can you hold onto things, people, places, dreams that. Never. Ever. Just. Seem. To. Hold. Back. Even with eyes closed and arms outstretched.
I think we should make an effort to try and make people feel special sometimes.
A lot of words worth listening for,
a lot of people worth watching,
a lot of invincible moments,
a lot of invisible friction worth feeling.
Life has been one long bus ride lately.
Always going to a general area but never exactly where I need to be.