i get it. sometimes i get too enveloped in the realization that shit’s not the best right now.
last time i got really deep into it was around the end of january this year. i don’t remember why i was crying. actually, i think that in the moment, i couldn’t place why i was so down. i hung my head off the side of my bed and sobbed until my sinuses felt like they were filled with sprite. i just cried and cried and cried.
then i scrolled to self-soothe. there was nothing really comforting, and i was frustrated by the loop, the little glitch where you close an app, or the fridge, or a convo, then when you look to do something new, you open it right back up again. it’s fucking exhausting.
so i forced myself to try something new. not a real New Thing, just opening an app outside of my usual three. I picked facebook. Far away enough from the regulars to show some new things, but close enough where I won’t get bored and go back to the loop for more dopamine.
i haven’t been on in so long that i wasn’t aware they share your own memories back to you. it was the first thing that caught my eye. around that time years ago, i had posted something in my senior year of high school about these three older kids i knew. Zack, Bre, and Brittany.
I remember them vividly. one time in journalism class, Zack banged on the classroom windows. He was in the hallway trying to get the girls’ attention. when everyone jumped and looked in his direction, he licked the glass and galloped away. Bre was my freshman year crush. we would chat a bit, and i used to go to her soccer games. something would happen to the base of my stomach when i saw her wipe her face with the bottom of her jersey. the sun would hit her bright orange waist-length ponytail as she zipped left and right around her opponents and it would make me immediately aware of just how cold and hard the bleachers were underneath my hips. Brittany was my neighbor. her parents would keep a perfectly clipped lawn with a leveled American flag. When she got a swing set, I would try to come over just to play with it. Her parents would let her throw parties in high school, with the rule that any of the kids drinking had to throw their keys in a bowl by the door and stay the night.
in january of my senior year, they threw a party. everyone was invited, but i couldn’t go until i finished a research paper for my IB history teacher. i was so burnt out and sad that i was missing out. i thought then that i hated my life. that night, though, Bre, Zack and Brittany left in the middle of the party. they snatched the keys from the party bowl and drove on the highway. at some point, they merged on the wrong side. they collided headfirst with another car, both going as fast as any car on the highway at night would drive. everyone involved died upon impact.
when i found out, i thought about how eager i was to hang with the three of them. i thought about how i might have tagged along. i hung my head off the side of the couch and cried. i hated my life, but i was alive to hate it. it wasn’t over yet.