I’ve got a bad case of the 3:00 am guilts - you know, when you lie in bed awake and replay all those things you didn’t do right? Because, as we all know, nothing solves insomnia like a nice warm glass of regret, depression and self-loathing.
I guess one of the best parts in our relationship is getting to just sit next to you and tell all the crazy things that happened to me all day long. And in the end that’s what it’s about- intellectual and even non sense kind of conversations. It’s not about the gifts nor the surprises you do for me or whatever. It’s not about how good-looking you are.. but it’s about how you can listen to me talk for hours and hours and hours about stupid shit that doesn’t matter.
Happy 112th day of awkwardness, you idiot.
- The Breakfast Club
After watching this 80’s classic, you’ll be begging for an afternoon in detention. The movie continues to build as the diverse group of characters get closer together and form a bond they’ll never forget.
- 10 Things I Hate About You
High school is hard. This film explores…
It’s interesting to think about how we make people who used to be everything into nothing again. How we learn to forget. How we force forgetting.
The dynamics afterward always tell you more than what the relationship did — grief is a faster teacher than joy – but what does it mean when you cycle out to being strangers again? Because you never really stop knowing each other in that way.
When our lives revolve around someone, they don’t just stop revolving around them even if all that’s left is the grief and pain that comes with their memory. Because you loved them, there will always be parts of them that linger. The memories that are impressed on the places you went and the things you said and the songs you listened to will remain.
I want to believe that you either love someone, in some way, forever, or you never really loved them at all. That the wounds we leave in people are sometimes too raw to risk falling back into them.
We all start as strangers. The choices we make in terms of love are usually ones that seem inevitable anyway. We find people irrationally compelling. We find souls made of the same stuff ours are. We find classmates and partners and neighbors and family friends and cousins and sisters and our lives intersect in a way that makes them feel like they couldn’t have ever been separate. And this is lovely.
We are all just waiting for another universe to collide with ours, to change what we can’t ourselves. To fill us, to make us whole. It’s interesting how afterwards, we realize that the storm returns to calm, but the stars are always changed and we don’t choose whose collisions change us.
We all start as strangers, but we often forget that we choose who ends up a stranger too.