p.y.h.o.u.h.&.t.m...i.a.o. ... I won't believe you until you do...

Two notes:
1.) People shouldn't ever assume that I am writing about them. Ask me before deciding that... Thank you.
2.) If you know what my title means, then we are probably soul mates... and don't make fun of me for how incredibly tacky it is.

Anyway, this is a strongly-edited version/excerpt of some thoughts I had on the drive from Mexico City to Querétaro today.

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Sometimes I wish I could take photographs with my eyes — or with my mind. I seem to see these beautiful things sometimes, but they rarely translate to film or to a digital image the way the picture in my head is. This leads me to sadly believe that, maybe sometimes, these breathtaking things are only beautiful as they are happening — and as my mind perceives it in that moment. You can't reproduce the feel of the wind blowing your hair against your face as you watch the setting sun out the window on the interstate, nor the feeling you had the last time your dad brushed his hands through your hair and told you he loved you — you can never truly reproduce any moment of your life. Although, in some cases, this may be good. The trouble is, since two people have left me, the only place my mind finds to wonder are to times when I was with them.

I find myself daydreaming of moments that I should never think of again, because they are a sickening reminder of things I want so badly, that can never be. Just because people die, people go away — or, my least favorite, "It's just not practical." Since when does practicality have anything to do with right and wrong? Nonetheless, there's nothing you can do to stop it or make yourself feel better. You just have to trust that God knows what he's doing with your life, and that someday it will all run its course and make sense.


And, well, I do believe this. But there are so many times where I wish I could go back and relive certain moments of my life again. I wouldn't change anything, I just want to relive those certain special moments. Especially the seemingly small moments that I didn't realize until later meant the entire world to me.

I'd put myself back in that car on the highway as the sun set. Instead of concentrating on the road, or being upset, I would have concentrated on what was going on inside of that car..................................................the important things, not the petty, silly, stupid things I was thinking about at the time. And I'd actually talk to the person next to me, instead of just playing the ignorant fool... Actually, I wasn't acting. I WAS an ignorant fool.

Or I'd put myself in the backyard at Manchester, lying on my back in the grass, with my dad, where we watched and counted the number of monarchs in the sky. 1,2,3...12. The dandelions shed their feathery petals in the air and the summer sun beat down on our skin. But this was our moment, and the way he looked at my 5-year-old self and tugged me closer to him has never left my thoughts. We continued to count. 13,14,15... but I used to be much more intelligent. Counting numbers at the age of five was far too easy for me, and I told my father so. "Oh, yeah? Prove it!" he jested. So, I began doing my times tables...all the way up to 10...and my dad listened to me, helping me on the rare occasions when I stumbled (8*4=32 and 9*7=63). When I finally got to 10*10=100, he began tickling me and telling me that I should skip my school and go straight to college. It seems strange, but I’m not sure if I have ever felt that adored since then in my entire life… and sometimes I wonder if I ever will be.

And the two people with whom I will never have the relationship I once had, are gone. And they are the two people I daydream about the most, and the two people who have changed and shaped me without meaning to. I was like a thin, glass vase — I was so fragile, but I have been broken, twice (well, thrice, but one of those events is way too far in the past to be mentioned). Although, I had dealt with difficult scratches before, nothing had completely broken me as these 2/3 events had... (Sheesh, I am making this horrible metaphor/simile/analogy-thing awfully confusing)

But I am not your ordinary vase; instead of waiting for someone else to come and shittly glue my pieces back together for me, I have, since 2005, been picking up the pieces and starting to mend myself. And I’m not using glue this time (a temporary repair), I have melted my glass, gone to the fire and am finally ready to be blown into something better… because I am strong, independent and can do everything on my own — or so I like to tell myself...