Lightening The Mood

Well, that last post was kinda heavy, so let's do the happy thing for a bit. To celebrate the all-but-resolved WGA writer's strike, (YAY!) here's an article by one of my favorite writers, Damon Lindelof, entitled 'Why We Write'. It's a fairly upbeat piece about dead 90-year-old women, trains crashing into buses, September 11th, and deceased parents.

Party time! :)

Once

I once had a friend named John. John was my best friend since about 7th grade. All through middle school, all through high school, all through all of everything else that came after. He came to my wedding, I talked him down from too many ledges to even count, and then one day, he was gone. I guess he moved on, because the last I heard, he had gotten married, had a kid, and settled on down a path I always thought I'd be with him on. Good for him, I guess, but what happened? Where did you go? More importantly, what did I do?

I lose friends like you lose socks in the dryer. I have communication and intimacy issues. I don't call or write enough. I inadvertently offend when all I'm really trying to do is be nice. I have a difficult time letting people get close enough to tell me they're thinking about leaving for good this time. I smell.

Maybe it's that big bad lonely apartment that's still scaring me a bit, but I really do think that that's how it's always going to be for me. I'm sure I'll have friends and family around if and when I want them to be, but wherever I am and whatever I'm doing, I can't think of a single instance where I won't be looking out the window or under the door, wondering how long it's going to be until I can push you away and be alone again.

I'm sorry, but it just seems to be what I do. Alone is where I can breathe, where I can think, where I don't have to worry about you leaving again. Or about why you left.