I found this draft from a few nights ago, and figured it’s one more thing to be honest and transparent about.
It’s late and I’m thinking. That’s what happens when the sun goes down – there’s a switch in me, and around 10:30 the switch flips. I don’t go to sleep. I go cold and lay in the dark and count the minutes until the sun shows its face again, until it fills me back up so I don’t feel this petrifying sadness.
Tonight it was triggered by lyrics to one of my favorite songs –
Long Live by Taylor Swift is my anthem. It’s one of my most adored songs out of every song that has ever been recorded.
I love it.
But it makes me sad.
It’s a cry to arms, to stand, to love those you’re surrounded by. It’s a rope binding a group of people together.
But it’s a rope that’s frayed. There’s doubt and concern, a vague hint that the bright lights and roaring laughter and soul-consuming joy will fade, like the colors of an old photograph or the print in a well-loved and much-read book.
I trust and am secure in my friendships for the first time in a very long time, if not ever. I know they won’t walk. I know that they’ll stand by me, no matter what, that I can call them and depend on them if I need help with a project, with errands, with this head-on-collision that is life.
But there’s still that “what if?” What if I lose them?
I feel like I’ve already lost so much, so many – I don’t want to stand at the end of the line, screaming “long live” to a screen of rolling credits with our names, our lives, scrolling past.