Post by marz malone on Dec 3, 2007 20:48:59 GMT -5
I was feeling a little depressed the other day.
So I wrote this story to try and make me feel better.
It kindof helped?
Input pleaseeee?
<3
~
Walking, stumbling up down the steps into an oh-too-familiar subway station, the one of my youth. I had so many memories here and it seemed like with every step I took down below street level another memory came flooding back to me. The time my friend Tyler jumped into the subway tracks on a bet. The time that we spent over half an hour in the station on Halloween. The time we got interviewed for some documentary. They all hit me in a rush, and I had to sit on a red Toronto Transit bench to let them calm down for a moment, a smiled at some of the memories that hit me, and frowned at the others.
Although really, those memories were why I was here now – fifteen years after graduation coming back to the place that started it all, all the magic and all the friends and the heartbreak that ended up breaking me.
It was hard for me to come here – I hadn’t thought of, let alone seen, any of my high school friends since that time in Vegas when we all turned twenty one, it hadn’t really ended all that well. World Series of Poker has a strange knack for ending friendships. It was, ultimately what made me change my path in life, give up my youthful dreams and become what I was now. Boring. Conservative. Without life, without being able to trust others for fear that they’ll hurt me or take something away.
For a moment, while I sat, I thought about my old friend and where I thought they were all now. My best friend, and closest confidant, Abbie, was probably off being successful and happy. She deserved it after all she had to put up from me in high school. Steph was probably married to our other friend, Spencer, and the two of them probably had penny-pinching children together. Tyler and David were a famous comedy duo together, as I had seen them on the television a couple times when I had the time. Peter had been part of a famous alternative rock band for awhile, Sweet Decay, but he had vanished from the music scene after the ska revival. Justin was a world-renowned biologist with our other friend, Carson, as his lab assistant. Alon had moved to Europe and got involved with the mob. And as far as I knew, no one really knew what happened to Mike. And me? Well, as I’ve previously said, I ended up becoming a boring business woman with no one to love and a dead-end career going nowhere.
I stood, shaking my head free of my musing and memories and resumed my journey down to the train-level of the station when the ghostly singing of a homeless man at the corner caught my ear. “We played the first thing that came to our heads, Just so happened to be, The Best Song in the World, it was The Best Song in the World.”
I don’t know what made me stop and listen for a moment, but that song came with so many memories, even after the wave I had just had to deal with. My friends and I, sitting at the front lawn of the school at “Woodstock ’07!” playing the most obscure songs that could come to mind, which that was one of.
I looked at the man playing the song, and his blue eyes hit mine. I knew those eyes. The mouth that was somehow attached to those eyes and my own mouth used to belt out System of a Down’s Sugar together in the hallways and giggle together over gossip, living in our little world of inside jokes and smirks in class. I looked at the eyes again, and I was wrong. Those weren’t my jester’s eyes, although they were frighteningly close.
Maybe I was just feeling a bit too nostalgic. So I picked up my briefcase and continued my way on, dropping my wallet into man’s hat and murmuring a swift “thanks for the memories”. I walked down to the train level and took a step down into the tracks, as Tyler had eighteen years ago.
So if we get the big jobs
And we make the big money
When we look back now
Will our jokes still be funny?
Will we still remember everything we learned in school?
Still be trying to break every single rule
Will little brainy Bobby be the stockbroker man?
Can Heather find a job that won't interfere with her tan?
I keep, I keep thinking that it's not goodbye
Keep on thinking it's a time to fly
And this is how it feels
So I wrote this story to try and make me feel better.
It kindof helped?
Input pleaseeee?
<3
~
Walking, stumbling up down the steps into an oh-too-familiar subway station, the one of my youth. I had so many memories here and it seemed like with every step I took down below street level another memory came flooding back to me. The time my friend Tyler jumped into the subway tracks on a bet. The time that we spent over half an hour in the station on Halloween. The time we got interviewed for some documentary. They all hit me in a rush, and I had to sit on a red Toronto Transit bench to let them calm down for a moment, a smiled at some of the memories that hit me, and frowned at the others.
Although really, those memories were why I was here now – fifteen years after graduation coming back to the place that started it all, all the magic and all the friends and the heartbreak that ended up breaking me.
It was hard for me to come here – I hadn’t thought of, let alone seen, any of my high school friends since that time in Vegas when we all turned twenty one, it hadn’t really ended all that well. World Series of Poker has a strange knack for ending friendships. It was, ultimately what made me change my path in life, give up my youthful dreams and become what I was now. Boring. Conservative. Without life, without being able to trust others for fear that they’ll hurt me or take something away.
For a moment, while I sat, I thought about my old friend and where I thought they were all now. My best friend, and closest confidant, Abbie, was probably off being successful and happy. She deserved it after all she had to put up from me in high school. Steph was probably married to our other friend, Spencer, and the two of them probably had penny-pinching children together. Tyler and David were a famous comedy duo together, as I had seen them on the television a couple times when I had the time. Peter had been part of a famous alternative rock band for awhile, Sweet Decay, but he had vanished from the music scene after the ska revival. Justin was a world-renowned biologist with our other friend, Carson, as his lab assistant. Alon had moved to Europe and got involved with the mob. And as far as I knew, no one really knew what happened to Mike. And me? Well, as I’ve previously said, I ended up becoming a boring business woman with no one to love and a dead-end career going nowhere.
I stood, shaking my head free of my musing and memories and resumed my journey down to the train-level of the station when the ghostly singing of a homeless man at the corner caught my ear. “We played the first thing that came to our heads, Just so happened to be, The Best Song in the World, it was The Best Song in the World.”
I don’t know what made me stop and listen for a moment, but that song came with so many memories, even after the wave I had just had to deal with. My friends and I, sitting at the front lawn of the school at “Woodstock ’07!” playing the most obscure songs that could come to mind, which that was one of.
I looked at the man playing the song, and his blue eyes hit mine. I knew those eyes. The mouth that was somehow attached to those eyes and my own mouth used to belt out System of a Down’s Sugar together in the hallways and giggle together over gossip, living in our little world of inside jokes and smirks in class. I looked at the eyes again, and I was wrong. Those weren’t my jester’s eyes, although they were frighteningly close.
Maybe I was just feeling a bit too nostalgic. So I picked up my briefcase and continued my way on, dropping my wallet into man’s hat and murmuring a swift “thanks for the memories”. I walked down to the train level and took a step down into the tracks, as Tyler had eighteen years ago.
So if we get the big jobs
And we make the big money
When we look back now
Will our jokes still be funny?
Will we still remember everything we learned in school?
Still be trying to break every single rule
Will little brainy Bobby be the stockbroker man?
Can Heather find a job that won't interfere with her tan?
I keep, I keep thinking that it's not goodbye
Keep on thinking it's a time to fly
And this is how it feels
