Monday, October 28, 2013

My head is its own narrative.
It's strange, really.
I do something, and my mind immediately races to narrating the next move; what someone else may be thinking; what will happen later as a result of my action. It's like a book. Think about it. A novel written in 3rd person constantly switches between the past present and future- the internal thoughts of characters, the proceeding actions of characters. 
I see a mosquito, and I'm about to kill it, and I clap my hands together and my mind starts thinking about, in a narrator's voice, how the death of this bug will affect the whole population of bugs, and some other fantasy that my imagination forsees. 
I wonder if I'm actually looking into the future.

Tuesday, October 22, 2013

The world is on fire.
Slowly burning up, with beauty, with hate. With satisfaction, with discontent.
As I sit here at my desk and listen to the faint melodies of my brother playing piano, each chord he plays really feels like a movie soundtrack-as if it's narrating the next steps in my life. I feel like I have nothing going on yet I have so much. As if the whole world depends on one moment-this moment-yet in the end, it really doesn't mean anything. My head is always hurting, and everything seems so white and discolored and drained. Yet there are those few moments-those moments in school at my table in homeroom where everyone is laughing and the teacher is telling us to take out a book for Project REAL, and we keep laughing and speaking loudly and just feeling, through our carelessness, that everything is infinite. Those moments at home, when I'm talking to my mom, or dad, and I feel I can share my story. Or when I see my brother in his childhood innocence, speaking with attitude and confidence that the rest of the world doesn't realize how badly it wants. With my friends-not my "school" friends, per se-but with HLV and LP, I'm always in the middle. They really both hate each other. And although for a while it's funny, it's like, seriously, give it a break, as my dad loves to say.
The little things that make me smile, like when I drew a worm on the side of my finger and moved my hand up and down so it looked like the tiny creature was moving. Or those stupid jokes I'm always thinking of, pointlessly hilarious.
Although there's so much to do, I am, in this strange way, afraid of nothing. Like when I'm done applying to high school, I'll just have so much time! 
And all I want to do is play soccer, let the addreneline take over me and let my mind be swooped away and constantly be thinking about the next move. Or being at school with my friends, complaining and making jokes about how awful school is-but at least we're all there. Together.
People are afraid of nothing. Of emptiness. Because what are we supposed to do if we're not preoccupied? Really. We force ourselves to look up to someone, to follow the rules, to go along with the crowd. But what about those leaders? And those inventors? Who are they looking up to?
I just don't know. And I don't want to think. I want to just be in another world, focused-reading, watching, doing, playing, being, running, focusing. Not, just, being.

but u ain't done 'till u eat ur veggies huney. uh-uh.

See? That made me smile.

Thursday, October 10, 2013

Although I didn't really know you, you were a child. A kid, just like me. Like everyone other kid in this world. A kid who had things you loved, things you hated- a kid. And fate has swooped your childhood away, taking you somewhere- but that somewhere I am not sure of.
I'm sure you're not in heaven, or hell, although those are great excuses for where people are taken after their lives are taken away. You're not in a better place.
It's astounding- one day you were here, playing soccer, having fun, planning your bar mitzvah, and the next day? Nothing. Although it's not fair, stupid, and not right, it happened. It happened! If you can hear me in any way, I'm sorry.
Maybe you're in a parallel universe, watching us and copying our every move. But unless your soul escaped, that is impossible. I'm angry, because it's pathetic, and sad, and heartbreaking, and unfair, and I'm sorry sorry sorry sorry. I bet everyone feels hopeless and ruined and devastated and helpless. At school everyone, even us who didn't know you too well, was crying. Everyone was astonished and shocked and angry at the world. And people are dying every day around the world- every five seconds someone dies.


But many of those people have lived full lives. Have gone to high school, college, gotten married, traveled the world. You haven't! And you were part of our community- although it sounds fake and cheesy, there is a community at school, in Park Slope, and you were part of it and now your gone.
It feels like you have a broken leg or something, or have an illness, but you're not... gone. I'm so, so, so sorry for your parents, your sister, your friends- but I'm mostly sorry for you.
You ARE remembered, although I'm sure that's meaningless to you, as you're probably not aware of anything now.
Oh, gosh it's wrong. You will be a shadow in our lives, and you'll be there. I hope you have a great bar mitzvah, I hope you go to a great high school, I hope you find someone you love...
If you can.
This is impossible! You can't be dead!
It isn't possible. But the impossible has occurred.
Wow, life sure is... magical...