Fifteen
In "Ten" I wrote, "just 82 more days, just 82, 82, 82." Now as I lie down for the final night in my own bed, the night I had been waiting on for so long, I am restless. My mind and eyes refuse to close with sleep as I am overcome with a mixture of feelings: reminiscence, joy, longing, hope, excitement.
As I lie here I recall the peaks and surges in my life, the people who have come and gone and those who have stayed, those whom I have loved and cursed, the nights which blossomed love, heartbreak, doubt, pain, and loss. I recall the fires I have overcome and the solitude I endured and how my vision has widened with the experiences from the life I have led so far; the memories are etched in my mind. //
I got the chance to see my best friend today before we each take our separate college paths. As I was walking alongside her, I thought about what it might be like if we were meeting during a time when there was no telephone. The number of text messages exchanged to plan for the few hours we had together; probably 30 letters carried by our trusty pigeons. As if it were the last time I might see her, I savored every moment, losing track of time. Parting ways at the train station, she waved and called "I miss you!" down the escalator leading to the platform. Boarding the crowded train, I stared out the wide window smiling at the days fun I had with her.
Funny enough, I got home and saw her again, on my phone, in a snap streak. I see her everyday.
Though modern technology seemingly has its perks—easy communication, real-time, face-to-face conversations, following exactly WHO is doing WHAT at any particular time—it is also another source of reliance that we feed off. It fills a void within us—the need to be up-to-date with the latest, the fear of being alone and without someone to talk to, the instant access to all the knowledge in the world—and we are trapped, addicted to these devices that provide so much for us. //
(Dear parents) I am addicted, probably. I'm not afraid to admit that. (Dear parents [end]) And just as an alcoholic or a druggist hallucinate and tremor when weaned off their medicine, my withdrawal is due to the gradual loss of contact with significant individuals in my life. The daily "good morning" and "good night" texts, the 100 or so random selfie exchanges, the overnight calls, the corny texts that made me smile, and the occasional sweet reminder that you'd forever be by my side, gone. If it were just photos that could easily be deleted and forgotten it would be simpler but no, I let you in and you bled through the keyboard and into my heart. You left me tangible memories that I couldn't bear to burn.
But I can't complain. I shouldn't be allowed to because I was the one who pushed you out. You stayed for as long as you could and those days were my happiest. Friend, thank you for your time and devotion. I will remember you forever. //
As I lie here I recall the peaks and surges in my life, the people who have come and gone and those who have stayed, those whom I have loved and cursed, the nights which blossomed love, heartbreak, doubt, pain, and loss. I recall the fires I have overcome and the solitude I endured and how my vision has widened with the experiences from the life I have led so far; the memories are etched in my mind. //
I got the chance to see my best friend today before we each take our separate college paths. As I was walking alongside her, I thought about what it might be like if we were meeting during a time when there was no telephone. The number of text messages exchanged to plan for the few hours we had together; probably 30 letters carried by our trusty pigeons. As if it were the last time I might see her, I savored every moment, losing track of time. Parting ways at the train station, she waved and called "I miss you!" down the escalator leading to the platform. Boarding the crowded train, I stared out the wide window smiling at the days fun I had with her.
Funny enough, I got home and saw her again, on my phone, in a snap streak. I see her everyday.
Though modern technology seemingly has its perks—easy communication, real-time, face-to-face conversations, following exactly WHO is doing WHAT at any particular time—it is also another source of reliance that we feed off. It fills a void within us—the need to be up-to-date with the latest, the fear of being alone and without someone to talk to, the instant access to all the knowledge in the world—and we are trapped, addicted to these devices that provide so much for us. //
(Dear parents) I am addicted, probably. I'm not afraid to admit that. (Dear parents [end]) And just as an alcoholic or a druggist hallucinate and tremor when weaned off their medicine, my withdrawal is due to the gradual loss of contact with significant individuals in my life. The daily "good morning" and "good night" texts, the 100 or so random selfie exchanges, the overnight calls, the corny texts that made me smile, and the occasional sweet reminder that you'd forever be by my side, gone. If it were just photos that could easily be deleted and forgotten it would be simpler but no, I let you in and you bled through the keyboard and into my heart. You left me tangible memories that I couldn't bear to burn.
But I can't complain. I shouldn't be allowed to because I was the one who pushed you out. You stayed for as long as you could and those days were my happiest. Friend, thank you for your time and devotion. I will remember you forever. //
Im still here and dont plan on ever leaving sweet dreams Hanna
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