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where you look
so happy with me;
where we
look so happy.
Next
it's a few videos I shot,
where I can
smell your perfume
and
sawdust,
just seeing that dress.
Then
it's
every
photo
I can
find,
and
all
the
songs
I saved;
that I
only sing now
thinking of you.
And then—
I haven't let a tear slide
since I let go your shoulder.
My eyelids
glide wet,
almost spill,
then dry again.
Some nights,
I wish
I knew
that calling you
would end
happily.
Still,
I imagine us perfect.
I can relate to this poem not through a romantic relationship, but from the perspective of a best friend. Moving 3,000 miles in the middle of junior year was never going to be easy. I was excited for new opportunities, but who wouldn’t be nervous?
ReplyDeleteI will never be able to forget what it felt like to tell my best friend, Liv, that I was moving away. We met at age six. I’ve had twelve years of loving her more than anyone. She’s my rock, my soulmate, and my person. I called her, crying. She thought I was kidding. She refused to believe I was serious. We didn’t go to the same school anymore, but we still managed to see each other every weekend.
Leaving hurt. I hadn’t seen her cry in years, but she broke down on my last night. We hugged each other and I wanted to never let go. We still talk, and she will always be my best friend, but it isn’t easy to have those real conversations we used to have at midnight during our middle school sleepovers, or on a summer afternoon in my pool once quarantine slowed down.
We are both so busy. We are preparing for college, editors-in-chief of publications at our schools, studying for AP tests, managing other relationships, spending time with our younger brothers. I wish I could see her whenever I want to, like I used to be able to. Just like this poem, I look at the old pictures. I see one of us at a Halloween party in sixth grade. I remember how itchy my costume was, and the way she wanted to take her face paint off the whole night, but didn’t want to ruin her costume. I see a photo of us at age seven, when we were in a play together in our pajamas, and another when we were in New York City for my 13th birthday, promising each other that we’d go to college together in the city and be roommates. The collage reminds me of a strip from a photo booth I still keep in my room from that trip. We posed in a store in the city. I still have it, five years later.
We have completely different music tastes, but I listen to the songs she likes when I miss her, like the speaker of this poem does. I know I’d never listen to Kid Cudi otherwise, but I do for her.
I haven’t cried over missing her, but I am right now. I hate shedding tears, but I call, and she doesn’t answer because she’s at work. She calls, and I don’t answer because I’m out with other friends. Missing her makes my heart hurt, and I too imagine us together once again, perfect. Best friends.
I'm glad you have someone in your life that you love enough to miss like that. Many people don't ~ and it's a warm spot inside that you get to carry around even when the person is far away. Real friends are always kind of there :)
DeleteI found this poem very interesting and relatable to my own experiences so far in life. My family has moved quite a bit, especially in my childhood, so I had to part with many friends over the years. Recently I have looked back on old photos and videos, often randomly suggested by Google photos, of old friends who I haven’t seen in years. Many of them I was quite close with, and similar to your description, I didn’t appreciate those relationships while they lasted. I never really realized what I had until it was gone.
ReplyDeleteThere is also the whole idea of what could have been, which is another thing I have thought about recently, especially with getting ready to leave for college. The penultimate sentence “I wish I knew that calling you would end happily” is something I relate to and also reminds me of the Steve Lacy song (Bad Habits) which has a similar feeling. It also reminded me of the plot of Great Expectations, which we just finished reading in English class. In the novel, Pip wants to be with Estella, and it isn’t until the very end, after so much unhappiness, that they realize they really should have been together, but it feels too late at that point.
I really enjoyed the visuals of the poem. I like how it starts off as simple lines and simple happy feelings of seeing an old photo. Then, some videos make the experience more vivid and the lines start to separate out as stronger emotions start manifesting themselves. Soon it becomes almost like an obsession where it’s only thinking of that one person, and just as a tear is forming, the words finish forming a shape of a tear. Then the tear has dried, the emotions have reached composure again, and the words return to a more simple form. I also really like the artwork along with it, especially the inverted colors which give it a distorted feel, almost like you can never see those photos the same way again after everything that’s happened (or not happened) since.
In my case, this wasn't an "I didn't appreciate it until it was gone" scenario ~ I ended things for good reason. But I still appreciated all their best qualities and remembered them fondly as I weened myself off of life with them.
ReplyDeleteThat's what the "“I wish I knew that calling you would end happily” line means to me: I don't actually believe that talking would end happily, which is why I keep my distance ... but I still imagine us perfect, in a world where all those issues could be magically brushe away.