Saturday, December 13, 2008

Predictable peach in Paris.

Two days left in Montreal. Separation angst for teh lose. My best friends, the best I've ever had, are here. So many hours of talking, laughing, chasing them around to beat them down. So many meals shared and drinks passed between us, so many nights of wandering around.
I don't ever want to forget what this is like. I will, in a matter of weeks. They're going to fade. Inside jokes forgotten.
I always hurt a lot over that, how time makes you forget the details. People move on. I don't ever really move on. I remember things, keep them alive, I want to keep them alive. I want to cherish everything good cause there's been so much bad that I need to keep away. Good times for me is like a torch in a fucking cave system. I need it to fend off the depression-bats. The good memories hurt too. Loss always hurts, obviously, and good times for me are like those short, rare glimpses of toilet paper in a world of porta potties.
So. Even if it hurts like shit on a stick in your gut, I don't want to forget. I want to remember, I need to remember to keep me going, keep me wanting, striving, needing. It's so easy to let go and give in to apathy. Fuck apathy. I'd rather have anguish and know I had something worth living for once, than forget.

On a completely different note: I adore winter in Canada. It's so beautiful I forget how to breathe sometimes.

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