three (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
threeplusfire) wrote2006-02-04 11:54 pm
threeplusfire) wrote2006-02-04 11:54 pm
photographs of you
I found one of my favorite photographs today, of me at sixteen. It was taken in front of the opera house in Paris, where I was wearing Christian's shirt and my Docs. I can't remember who took the picture for me. My hair was so long back then, and I was so skinny. I can hardly remember that girl. I do remember being very sad, and lonely, and listening to Depeche Mode on the balcony over the sea at Normandy. It sounds so much more romantic than it really was.
Hard to explain, how I'm happy and sad at the same time. Happy for the freedom of this new life, happy for so many things that are right and better now. Sad for things that never were or can't be, things that for the most part have never existed outside my head. I have always lived too much there, inside. These created worlds and lives sustained me in the absence of more tangible ones.
In one of the boxes I found my acceptance letter into UT, and the program from my grandfather's funeral. There were two comics, carefully preserved in layers of scotch tape. All the articles published in the Texan, a clipping of the staf listing with my name in the credits. My notebooks from 1999 to 2001, full of class notes, Russian letters to no one, bad writing and hysterical journal entries. A magazine article about Nabokov, and one about people who fake suicides online in their blogs. It was strange to touch those things.
I'm getting older, and sometimes I wonder if I'll always be living this way.
Hard to explain, how I'm happy and sad at the same time. Happy for the freedom of this new life, happy for so many things that are right and better now. Sad for things that never were or can't be, things that for the most part have never existed outside my head. I have always lived too much there, inside. These created worlds and lives sustained me in the absence of more tangible ones.
In one of the boxes I found my acceptance letter into UT, and the program from my grandfather's funeral. There were two comics, carefully preserved in layers of scotch tape. All the articles published in the Texan, a clipping of the staf listing with my name in the credits. My notebooks from 1999 to 2001, full of class notes, Russian letters to no one, bad writing and hysterical journal entries. A magazine article about Nabokov, and one about people who fake suicides online in their blogs. It was strange to touch those things.
I'm getting older, and sometimes I wonder if I'll always be living this way.
no subject
today, being my birthday, my mother an di were lookinga t photos of me. i can't remember that girl. i can't remember things about her but she looks so alien to me. and i want to shake her by the shoulders and tell her what to do.
but here i am. it's all been done.
daily, i find myself wondering if i willalways feel this way. if this is life. i've forever been waiting for my "real life" to begin. perhaps i must accept that is already has; this is it. that's hard to do when it is so far from what i wanted it to be.
i didn'tr mean to trurn this into being about me! truly. but i guess your post touched me deeply enough to allow me to get that all out and i thank you.
know you are not alone. we're going to be just fine.
no subject
Exactly. I have the same feeling. Really - it's good to know that I'm not crazy and I'm not the only person with this feeling. Not that I want anyone else to be so conflicted.