03.14.03 . 8:52 a.m.
131: what we truly become

lately, ive been thinking about children.

and i dont know why.

im amazed by them, really.

how the world is so fresh and exciting for them.

and i remember how when i was little, things were so amazing to me.

just every little detail. the trees in Stephanie Curts' backyard, and her swingset, and how we'd sit on her monkey bars and id watch her brother play basketball and we talked about how when we grew up, we'd get an apartment together after we graduated.

we would play in my backyard on the trampoline, or we would work on the clubhouse that would be built in the tree behind my house. only that never worked out, and after it all, all that was there were two boards nailed to branches.

we would ride our bikes around the neighborhood, and down Avis street we would ride down the hill with our hands in the air and off of the handlebars.

on the rare occasion that it would snow, their was a hill on the side of my house and we would take cardboard boxes and flatten them down and slide down the hill and crash into piles of mush.

we had slumber parties and made up songs until 7 am one night, and it was the first time i stayed awake a full 24 hours.

we pulled out my dads 45's and listened to old rock n roll and pretended to be go-go dancers.


i used to think i wanted kids so badly - and now lately, ive thought about how i dont want kids because i dont think id ever be ready - but really, who IS ready when they have them.

and i thought about the world and how fucked up it is, and how kids shouldnt live in a world this way - but i mean - the world still has its beautiful things. there are still backyards and clubhouses and riding on your bike with your hands in the air, and there is still the first time you stay up all night, and there are still old records to listen to, and theres still things to fantasize about with your best friend. theres still broken arms and scraped knees and neosporin bandaids. even in the age of videogames, theres still Monopoly and Trouble.

i saw this kid at the grocery store last night after i got off work, and he had taken some of the little baggies that you put veggies and fruit in, and he had them all connected and put them on his head like a hat and they were trailing off like a long veil or something. only it was a boy and it didnt look as if it was a veil, but you get the idea?

and he was giggling and his mother was laughing and his little sister was laughing. and i nearly cried.

right there in the middle of the fish section..i nearly cried.

at the idea that things used to be so simple and so idealistic.

and how one day, this tiny person will lose his ability to play like that and how he will lose that innocence that makes him so beautiful to begin with...and one day, he'll get annoyed by a boy in the fish section who has a plastic bag on his head and is running around laughing and smiling.... and how sad that made me..

when i left there, i was sitting at a red light and i was staring at this tree that was near a house with an alleyway behind it, and i was thinking how it was the perfect spring evening and if i didnt work, i would probably still be out playing in alleyways making up games and songs and laughing with my friends and we'd start clubs that only WE knew about....and then four kids came riding their little scooter thingies beside all of the cars, and i wanted to abandon the car and take off with these tiny 8 yr olds.

im a mess.

one giant mess.

why do i worry myself with such things?

im suuuuch an analytical person it drives me nuts.

i disect everything until its nothing anymore.

and thats dangerous and i let myself get this way and i let myself get worked up over nothing. because so what if everyone else sees the world as objects and as black and white? so what if no one i know wants to play in trees even now that theyre "grown"? so what. because at least *I* can see things as colorful as they truly are. at least *I* can know that things can still have an element of beauty in them.

even though i know this: im dying inside.

im becoming cynical.

usually, im just sarcastic.

im usually so optimistic.

and im losing it.

and that scares me.

because..i really want nothing more than to remain a woman with a child living and breathing inside of me.

so what if i find myself quoting the Little Prince inside of my head...so what.


[music: "my love, she speaks like silence without ideals or violence. she doesnt have to say she's faithful, yet shes true like ice, like fire. people carry roses and make promises by the hours. my love, she laughs like the flowers. valentines cant buy her. in the dime stores and bus stations people talk of situations, read books, repeat quotations, draw conclusions on the wall. none speak of the future, my love, she speaks softly. she knows theres no success like failure. and that failure is no success at all.."]

back . forth