March 13, 2017
Monday, 10:18 PM
I’m setting the featured photo as the night of Liv’s birthday 2 years ago because I miss her. And everyone in the picture is no longer in this country </3
I was sitting on the bus on my way to school yesterday and realized that I’m at the point where I need to be thinking of what unis I want to go to and is aiming to pass all the requirements to get into those universities. And then that’s where I thought about how moments I am and have been creating will be times I wish to relive. Weird. Once high school is over, it’s over. Like this is all I’ll ever get of youth and even if I wish to change things or make things different, I’m already done with more than half of youth. I hope that makes sense.
Feel hard, she says. Kiss with a mouth full of broken parts, I’ve been told. My best friend now holds on to her boyfriend. He’s going to be her high school sweetheart, I think. I mean I know he will. He adores her so much. She’ll remember him forever. We are so young. Fall in love as hard as you can, I believe. I have friends in every inch of the world. They are all flying out to see the person they think is the ‘one’. I wonder if all of these people are meant to be. If they are, how come I’m not meant to be with any of the people I’ve ever met. Travel the world. There is nothing more fun and tiring at the same time than sleeping at the airport floor with your best friends. Oh I can’t wait to travel with those people again. Walking down foreign streets. Lighting joints. Getting buzzed just for the buzz of it. I just take photographs of these people. One day they’ll want to remember that these were them at 17. See, I told you I won’t write about you anymore. And I haven’t. In fact, I haven’t since early December. I still see that girl around. She was always like your little sister. That boy that made her cry for days, yeah, he calls her his best friend now. She says she trusts him with the world. She still doesn’t know he was the one who spread her pictures around. Forget them. Me and my friends are singing “Wait For Me”by Motonopy and I wonder what the story is behind the song. I sing it over and over again and it sounds like he’s singing to a girl he’s known all his life, really. Now it’s come to me that I think of him day and night. It’s a love and hate relationship. I mean I see him everyday. I see him across the room and I want to fight him. Roll my eyes at him, say ‘fuck you dude’. But then some days I just want to go up and wrap my arms around him without saying anything at all. I keep on titling him as ‘Dreams’. Jorja Smith’s version of ‘Let Me Love You’ is what I think when I look at pictures of him. It goes like ‘If I was your woman baby you’d never worry ’bout what I do… I’d be coming home back to you… You’re the type of man that deserves good things… wrist full of diamonds, hand full of rings.” It’s just. Ugh. I’m here. And we both know you are not made from this place. You and I, we get each other. But whatever. This whole thing is too complicated to even talk of. I mean I think again that we’ll both be under the same rain in 3 years. Same night. Same time. A few kilometers apart. A train ride away. Well, that’s what we know now. He’s youth because 8 years later and he’ll grow a grown man. Thank God. But I’ll miss my days with him. He is something else. Something else in a special happy way. Not in a romantic way, but in a way that I, I adore him. I’m gonna miss nights with my friends too. We talk everyday. We’re gonna be so busy with our lives once all of this is over. I’m glad I have videos to watch back to and pictures to hold on to. The late night walks. Commissary runs. Sipping hot chocolate in that cafe porch that cold January night. I think, you’re only 16 and 17 once. It also sucks because being 15 was my favorite thing. I never understood Taylor Swift’s ‘Fifteen’ until then. But maybe in 6 years I’ll write a song about all of this. I wonder who I’ll still know. Youth I think, is when you just do. I feel hard. I express lots. I say hello to too many to count. I take too many photographs. I hug too much. I just know I won’t be able to live this twice. One day I’ll be 32 walking down the street and across the street I’ll see a bunch of 16 year olds holding each other and laughing while holding their cigarette, and I’ll laugh and maybe even go up to them. Maybe I’ll even take a picture of that whole group of friend. But I know I’ll think to myself that they only have so short to be young.