Beavers!

summerswings


well fuck yeah

we can live like this


what fools these mortals be
Beavers!
summerswings
i guess i hope i've changed. two days ago, i had an infinite list of musts for my life. i must learn five more languages, i must live abroad, i must have children and scuba dive and perfect a form of dry wit and own three hermes bags in different colours and surf in hawaii and study at san diego state and memorise more socrates and watch gorillas in the congo and volunteer in rwanda and see this and that band in concert and travel here and not deny myself any gastronomic pleasure and spend as much time as possible reading and seeing and experiencing things foreign to me and living other lives, and if i could succeed in as many of these things as time permitted, i would have lived a worthwhile life, and if not, total failure of all things ever, go die, you are worthless. and now i feel like, if i do nothing for the rest of my days except sit by his bed and brush his teeth and cut his tiny pieces of corn into halves, if i pass him a glass of water and re-arrange his covers to contain that extra shred of dignity, stroke his back or his arm or his leg while his teeth clench and his body tenses as he shudders around the foot long bandage on his chest, if i give him anything he might request in the shortest time it takes me, if this is all i ever do, and all it does to contribute to the world is to make him happier than he would be otherwise, then that will be a worthwhile life. and i will have mattered as much as i need to make myself feel successful.
i'm glad i already had no belief whatsoever in god, because a crisis of faith around this time would only hinder my ability to save the tears for my pillow. basically it's nobody's fault that this happens, because genes randomly mutate, and we're just lucky this is a mutation that has happened to a lot of people and was finally identified in 1991 without which, he may have just always been your skinny, tall, adorable, hilarious boyfriend with the funny chest until one day his aorta stopped pumping blood because it just got too hard. and a hundred years ago he would've been dead from the burst appendix when he was 7, and in a hundred years we'll be under water or permanently malnourished from a lack of food supply due to that thing we keep doing to the planet that nobody seems to do much about even though the proof becomes clearer every day, so i should be thankful for our existence in the present, and accept that it will be enough if i have made him even slightly happier, because he is a person whose pain i can actually do something about, and whose happiness affects more than just my happiness. and he has never needed me to be anything except myself. he does not need me to speak french or spanish or get up every morning for bikram or walk along the beach or see the sun rise over african plains or know more about the difference between an automatic weapon and a semiautomatic weapon. 
i don't have to be so wrapped up in all the things i want myself to be, when i already am something to someone, and that something is nothing to turn my nose up at.
i think i could be happy with that.

(no subject)
Beavers!
summerswings
you can't ask someone to wait for you.

Old friends
Beavers!
summerswings

It's so weird to hang out with someone who was once your best friend and listen to them tell a story about their little brother and sister, and you add an obscure detail that you probably should have forgotten by now, but you didn't. And they look at you strangely for a second. And then you remember that you're not best friends anymore, and it's kind of weird that you know so much about their family.

It's really dumb.

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.


You are viewing summerswings