It's amazing what a few years do to a person. This time four years ago I dubbed myself the luckiest man alive and the only person that I had qualms with was a kid who threw shit at me during lunch. It was simple then, clean and pure. I look back now over what has been a really muddy four years and I can see how I've changed. I'm not as passive as I used to be, the kid who threw things at me in high school is now just a name I hear once and a while, and I think I have hurt about as many people (if not more) that have ever hurt me. And so now I sit, staring graduation in the face six months off and I can't shake a single thought from my head. "Fuck," I say to myself ever so slowly, "what now?" It's the big question I was scared to ask back in high school and am somewhat worried about now. I mean sure I can delay the inevitable job and mundane day to day existence by chasing down my master's degree at the same wonderful institute I will be acquiring my BS from. Even so, that only delays "life" for about a year or so. So how is this so called life different from what I am doing now? It's a day to day existence with an end nowhere in sight, the monotony broken up with friends, drama, and the occasional video game. In the end though, it all comes back to the people who I clashed with, who I hurt, and who I am probably nothing more than a passing name to as well- much like the kid who threw things at me back in High School. I'm not really sure how that makes me feel, to be pleasantly forgotten, especially by someone who meant a lot to you (and at one point a lot you to them). For whatever reason though, things went haywire, you gave up on each other, or there was just a monkey wrench of destructive hormones, the result of which was something likened to complete chaos- the result scattered debris.
I suppose in the end it really sucks that I write this knowing full well neither of the two people will ever read this. I have a mutual friend that talks to both of them, and I can find out bits about their life that way, but I'm sure at one point that too will vanish and fade. For the rest of my life though, I will be carrying the burden of the two people I seriously wronged in my life, for which now, even more than a year or more I still kick myself for. And I don't message, or call, or e-mail them because I can't find the words that say how sorry I am, how wrong I was, or how stupid a boy I was. I don't think the English language has words for it, and if there are words, they are probably forgotten.
I guess this is one of life's harder lessons.
In response to "Uphill Against the Wind":