Late Night Daydreams June 18, 2009

Last night I was at a friends house, partying one final time before I go down to college. I didn’t get home till midnight. Everyone in my house was asleep. Silent. And I just went in my room, left the light off, and sat on my very cluttered bed. (Yes, my room is still a mess.) I was just sitting there, thinking. About fading friendships. About all the new possibilities. About dreams. About fears. I just got caught up in this whole daydream-esque affair. Except it was night. But I literally zoned out for an hour, just lost completely in my thoughts.

This is it. Those friends I just watched The Swan Princess with–twice in a row, I might add–were all staying and I was going. I’m kind of a realist. And I can’t help but know most of those friends will forget me. I’ll forget them. We’re just on different paths now and, soon, they’ll just be an old memory in a diary, a forgotten Facebook friend, someone in my phone who I just don’t call anymore. Even though we had just been laughing about Jean-bob and Speed; even though we played the “I Never” game twice in a row; even though we relived all our favorite times together–it’s just the end. Which is sad. Really, it is. But that is all life really gives us: change. We have to either make it work or resent it. I want to make it work.

I’m excited for college. I’m excited for boys and professors and late-night study groups and roommates. Really, I am. It’s this whole new world and I want to embrace that change that is coming. Tomorrow. But, last night, at one in the morning, just sitting in the dark, I kept imagining what it will be like. Who will I be in five years? Married? Will I have sent invites to all those old friends? Maybe I’ll be graduated. Will I have a job? Be published? I could still be stuck in college, plowing away, perhaps caught up in daydreams about the past. But I don’t know. And that’s a really, really cool thing. I. Don’t. Know.

We can go around, pretending we rule our universe, thinking we’re in control, professing we’ve got it covered. But no one really does. Change is life and we have no control over it. Not really. Change is always one step ahead of us and we have to let it be. Learn to roll with the punches. We don’t have any idea what life will be like tomorrow, next week, next year. Life comes at you fast. All we can do is try to smile through it, make every moment count because that’s your reality.

So I was sitting in the dark. All alone. The house eerily silent. But I smiled. I smiled because I got to watch The Swan Princess one more time with some of my best friends. I smiled because, tomorrow, I’m stepping into a whole new reality. I smiled because I have no idea what’s coming next; who I’ll be tomorrow. And I also smiled because it was extremely late and I was a little delirious.

Seriously though, isn’t life pretty sweet? Not perfect–never will be–but there’s something comforting about change. Because, cliche or not, change is the one constant. And that’s sort of synonymous with hope. At least for me. …At least at one in the morning.

The End Meets the Beginning June 16, 2009

My room is a mess. Catastrophic, really. It usually is. But this is a different sort. Because I’m leaving. Moving away. Going forward, but always looking back. Maybe that’s wrong–looking back. I’m sure someone wants to turn his nose up, tell me to look to the future; to realize I have a whole world at my feet. And I do, I know that. But I can’t help but glance back. Especially now.

This very friday I am going away to college. Not that far–just an hour, less when my brother is driving. But I’ve been working this week at packing up my room. Which is, I’ve realized, just like packing up my life. How can one ever decide what to bring, what to leave? I don’t want to give anything up. These eighteen years have made everything in my room a part of me. And I want to take it all with me. The coloring books, the legos, the porcelain dolls, old diaries, my baby blanket, my un-scrapbooked photos, the cheaply-created scrapbooks, neon green nailpolish I haven’t used since I was twelve. I want to take it all. But I can’t. Not only is my dorm the size of my bathroom and therefore far beyond unable to hold ALL the life of Shelby Boyer. But I shouldn’t bring it all. This is the end. Morbid, I know. But not really. It’s kind of hopeful. Because an end is only a sad way of saying a beginning. And I don’t think there’s any other way of explaining what I am doing (or why my bedroom looks like a tsunami came and pulled up the carpet). This is a beginning–my beginning. So why am I so desperate to hold to the end?

For a long time now I’ve been holding a one-way ticket to Neverland. I talked about going, I thought about it, I’ve even prayed about it. But I’ve never been able to step away. Because I realized I like growing up. I want to grow up. But I don’t want to let go. Not ever. Peter Pan can have his pirates and his lost boys and mean mermaids. I’m going to stick with that step into the unknown. I’m going to let go of my mommies hand and go to that first day of school without screaming and crying. I’m going to figure out how to cook and clean and get going without my parent’s help. I’m going to dream about tomorrow–boys, parties, degrees, apartments–but, I promise you this, I’m never going to forget that moment where the end meets the beginning. Now, here, with my room a disaster and the memories creating a traffic jam in my brain, I’m going to hold to this. This serendipitous point in time where you have your hand on the door but you can’t help but look back a bit. I look at those journals and scrapbooks and blankets and pictures and I remember. I remember how my dad used to let me climb on his feet and he’d walk me around the kitchen. I remember when mom and I played with baking soda in the kitchen and Travis and I went back to make even bigger explosions. I remember the fights I had with my friends when dances and boys were supposedly more important than each other. I remember plotting out the best surprise party ever and seeing her face when we were all there, waiting. I remember my driving test when I accidentally changed lanes over the white line and I thought the world was over. I remember opening my email and seeing that “You have been accepted” phrase beaming up at me. I remember the night after graduation, lying in bed, holding to my raggedy baby blanket and just crying because, too soon, I would be here, saying goodbye. But then, even as I remember, I put it down. That blanket is staying. Those pictures are still in the box, gathering dust on my closet shelf. I have packed my journals but only so they don’t burn up in a fire I’m scared will take my house by storm as soon as I leave them.

I’m glad for the memories. But I’m even more glad for the chance to make new ones. This is the end. But I’d like to see it as a beginning. I mean, that way my disturbingly dirty room isn’t such a bad thing. When my mom comes in, angry about the mess, I can gently remind her that I have more important things to worry about. Like putting that Neverland ticket through the shredder. There’s no way I’m going now.

Reality For Real March 26, 2009

Last night i was watching the Bachelor episode i had TiVo-ed. That’s when Matt came over. He said his girlfriend had just dumped him. He said his girlfriend had felt unloved. He said he hadn’t seen it coming. I had. Everyone had. That is, everyone who saw her with Austin. But i didn’t tell Matt that. I couldn’t really talk. I mean, his now-ex girlfriend is my roommate. Not that I like her. I don’t. She was totally wrong for him. He was totally above her. Of course, I have to say that. Because he’s my best guy-friend. Actually, he’s my only guy-friend. Seems most guys won’t just be friends with you if your boyfriend is the quarterback. I thought that stuff ended with high school. It doesn’t.

But back to the guy-friend thing. Matt was my best friend from sophomore year in high school to sophomore year now. I think my boyfriend once threatened him. But Matt just laughed. That’s how he always is. But it’s kinda stupid to laugh at a quarterback. So I had to tell my boyfriend Matt was gay. And since he doesn’t really hang out with Matt’s crowd, he bought it. Funny how easy it was. I actually see Matt way more than said boyfriend. And, come to think of it, said boyfriend has plenty of girl friends. He always did have a double standard.

So, the reality show night. I was totally just watching the T.V. And Matt was sitting there, ragging on the ex when he suddenly shut up. I glanced over at the sudden silence and he was just staring off, mouth half-opened. I asked what his deal was and then he just looked at me and laughed. He always laughs, remember?

“I didn’t even love her.” He said, as if it was the epiphany of the year. But I’d so known that. It was a duh moment for me. I mean, him and her was like me and BF. It just…happened. And it didn’t matter. That’s when I put The Bachelor on mute. And I stared at him.

“I don’t love him.” I said. He smiled slyly. “Duh.” he said. Then I laughed.

“I just wasted a year.”

“And I wasted five.” he interjected, still sly.

“What?” I argued, “you were only with her for a few months!”

He just shrugged, leaning forward, obviously eager to get to a point. “Why were we such idiots, do you think?”

I shrugged, turning the volume back up. Conversations about my boyfriend always bored me. But, i guess, by that time he wasn’t really my boyfriend. Because of my not loving and not caring and all. Still, like I wanted to analyze my own stupidity when the Bachelor was handing out his final rose. Matt understood. Sort of. He leaned back on the couch, slouching to level himself with me. He always was tall. Massive torso. But he never ever slouched. So of course I glanced at him, wondering what he was up to. But he seemed pretty intent on The Bachelor as well. It was only after the commercial break that I realized he’d inched closer. Weird. I mean, he isn’t exactly the touchy type. Which, to me was one of the deciding factors in his recent break-up since the ex was very, very touchy. So I asked if he was cold. He laughed. But then the Bachelor was up and the first girl was getting out of the limo and I was so invested in the decision that my eyes were glued to the T.V and nothing else.

The girl was my favorite. Probably because she was a lot like me. Petite. Blonde. A little cynical but still sweet. Attitude with a little bit of shyness. I’d been rooting for her since the first night when she called the bachelor out on a stupid thing he’d said. And now I was watching the finale. They were perfect for each other. Like The Notebook couple. Totally get in each other’s faces but so perfectly romantic and complete opposite. And what does he do??? He lets her go! For some green-eyed brunette who laughs like a cow. And, no, cows DO NOT laugh. I got so angry! I leapt from the couch and screamed, kneeling up by the T.V. and cursing the day the Bachelor ever got accepted to be on national television.

Matt laughed at me. Which is NOT smart to do when I’m emotionally involved in a T.V. show. i turned on him. But he just knelt next to me, allowing me to be angry for a while before he interrupted.

“Didn’t you once say I was like him?”

Yes, I had. The second week it was on. They were almost clones. Except his eyes weren’t as blue as Matt’s. But that did not seem the best time to bring up a likeness. Especially since I wanted to destroy the one on T.V. Maybe i’d settle with the twin. But Matt didn’t seem scared. He just laughed again. “And aren’t you like her?”

“YES! And he just let her go! They were perfect and he was her SOULMATE and he just made her WALK AWAY!!! It was like the best couple in the universe and–BAM–now, it’s nothing. They were perfect and….”

I stopped. Because I realized–everything. The way he looked at me when he said he hadn’t loved the ex. The way he looked when I said I didn’t love my BF. The way he said Five Years–the time we’d known each other. The way he inched closer. The way he smiled. The way he was crawling closer to me. The way I was in his arms now. The way he pushed my hair out of my eyes. The way his thumb slid across my stressed brow, softening my scowl. And now I couldn’t breathe. The Bachelor was proposing behind me to the wrong girl . But I didn’t care. My eyes were locked on Matt’s. Which were laughing. Yes, eyes DO laugh. At least his do.

“Why was he such an idiot, do you think?” His voice was a whisper, surprising.

“Maybe he just didn’t realize what was right in front of him. And they just let it go because they couldn’t see….”

My last words melted away, hazy and unimportant. He was inching closer, his hand around my neck, warm, sure. He kissed me. I kissed him. Time stopped. Everything stopped. Except him and me. That was enough. I didn’t even care what happened on The Bachelor. Because it was happening to me–my own reality. Crazy how things work out, isn’t it?

Sweet Surrender May 23, 2008

The pain can
seem
too much to
bear.

I cannot
breathe,
so I
Surrender.

Life has played
a
cold, cruel
hand.

I cannot
breathe,
so I
Surrender.

The darkness tugs,
pulling
me from the
light.

I cannot
breathe,
so I
Surrender.

But isn’t
surrender
indeed a
journey?

I cannot
breathe,
so I
Surrender.

Light can
come
In sweet
surrender.

I cannot
breathe,
so I
Surrender.

With such a
freefall
Comes the
truth.

We cannot
breathe;
We must
Surrender.