Astronought
05-22-2009, 09:31 AM
I'm driving home, but I know she's not there. She's somewhere else, I've left her behind. She's with another man? Woman? She could be anywhere, it could be anyone. I've never seen her like this before, it's a shame that her life stopped, lodged in my memories. When you leave someone behind, when you move on, it's strange to think that they have seen and now the same things that you know, things that have happened in the public consciousness that obviously everybody knows about but you think for some reason that they wouldn't know about because they're jiust a person that doesn;t exist outside of your own limited knowledge of them. It's like friends from school you knew before the terrorist attacks. Do they know about them? Obviously they do but in your own limited knowledge of them they don't because you still see them as a seven year old in shorts and a blue shirt. They've had hair cuts and boyfriends since then, bad and good things happen to them, things that we can't imagine. It's all coverwed and we don't know because we can't experience anyone else. We're with ourselves forever and this is how it always is.
The terrorist attacks were big for me, they defined my time. The zeitgeist I live in and try to feed from was created by this event that I barely remember as an actual happening but more so as the hysterical coverage and memories of commentaries. It's funny how you remember people's (and your own) opinions of certain events more than the actual event. I can't tell you how the book ends but I can tell you what I thought of it. I couldn't tell you how we stopped loving each other but I can tell you that I was sad and depressed at the time, and I knew you didn't understand. We used to be crossed fingers in a hurricane but now we're different hands in different pockets. That band who made our song broke up and that cinema we used to go to has shut down. I can see on the corner the phonebox where we'd meet and it's been moved, replaced with nothing. The bin we'd pass by everyday that looked like a frowning face has been painted and fixed up, everything is different. We're both older and we both undoubtedly look bigger but I'll never see you as anything other than that girl I loved and left behind. You're in my memories as the girl with the ice cream, the girl with the tight jeans and the girl with the ten year smile.
I remember the thud when you collapsed upstairs, I remember the dog jumping to attention. I remember when you liked my hair long and when you liked it when I cut it. I remember seeing your face when you woke up, and your face just before. I remember those wires and those pipes coming from your nose and then I remember the relief when you finally were gone for good, relief for both of us. I didn't want to remember you as anything other than the girl with the ten year smile. I don't remember how the book ends but I remember that I didn't ever want it to stop.
The terrorist attacks were big for me, they defined my time. The zeitgeist I live in and try to feed from was created by this event that I barely remember as an actual happening but more so as the hysterical coverage and memories of commentaries. It's funny how you remember people's (and your own) opinions of certain events more than the actual event. I can't tell you how the book ends but I can tell you what I thought of it. I couldn't tell you how we stopped loving each other but I can tell you that I was sad and depressed at the time, and I knew you didn't understand. We used to be crossed fingers in a hurricane but now we're different hands in different pockets. That band who made our song broke up and that cinema we used to go to has shut down. I can see on the corner the phonebox where we'd meet and it's been moved, replaced with nothing. The bin we'd pass by everyday that looked like a frowning face has been painted and fixed up, everything is different. We're both older and we both undoubtedly look bigger but I'll never see you as anything other than that girl I loved and left behind. You're in my memories as the girl with the ice cream, the girl with the tight jeans and the girl with the ten year smile.
I remember the thud when you collapsed upstairs, I remember the dog jumping to attention. I remember when you liked my hair long and when you liked it when I cut it. I remember seeing your face when you woke up, and your face just before. I remember those wires and those pipes coming from your nose and then I remember the relief when you finally were gone for good, relief for both of us. I didn't want to remember you as anything other than the girl with the ten year smile. I don't remember how the book ends but I remember that I didn't ever want it to stop.