[denshugatari]

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I got a C on my paper today and the one person I want to talk to about it is in the hospital, out of reach. The only connection I have with him is through Facebook messages from his creepy forty year old lover. His he really all alone up there except for him?! What right does he have to Andrew??? Andrew is perfect. He's annoying as hell, but he's always there to proofread my papers, help me with math I don't understand, and to spend afternoons writing in the library with me. Everyone expected me to know everything, to get 100s, everyone except Andrew, who was in the same position and wasn't afraid to criticize me. Heck, he criticized me often, showing me when I was wrong and teaching me to be both smarter and a better person. He is the person I respect most intellectually and is like a brother to me in that we are close but often argue. I always followed Andrew, he was always there to guide the way. But I guess in the end I was victim to the same idolization that I hated of myself. Andrew is human. Even though we both had anxiety attacks and panics, I always assumed that he would be strong because that's who he was and I could depend on him. But that was wrong of me. I've been letting Andrew lead the way for too long. It's my turn to discover the path that we will take and help him recover from this rut we are in.

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Looking for Bugs

While I was waiting for some friends outside SRD, I heard a weird noise coming from the grass, a buzzing of some sort. Eventually curiosity got the better of me. I got out my phone light and got on my knees to see what kind of bug it was. A few minutes later, a sorority girl dressed for a formal came up to me. "Can I help you find something?" She had thought I had lost an earring or something. I awkwardly apologized and told her I was looking for a bug for a science project. She said science was fun and good luck, then walked to off to her life that was infinitely more normal then mine.

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Last night, when I was on a walk at around ten, I had a strange thought. Something bad going to happen tonight, I can feel it in the wind. I told Kai it was like when Jem and Scout were walking back from the play. Today, I woke up and Harper Lee had died.

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Musicians from Italy

Today the director of the youth music program in Geneva and the codirector of Ensemble Lucidarium, an international music ensemble. The director was an older man with a beard and glasses. He apologized for his broken English and then preceded to spill out perfect sentence after sentence. The lady was a middle aged Jewish woman who wore her glasses on her head, making her dark hair into a frizzy crown. She didn’t know how to use PowerPoint and was amazed by the laser pointer Professor Nardini gave her. The three spoke to each other in Italian, and it was interesting to listen to. They lectured in English though. Italians trying to speak English: "The toes of South America" when talking about the southern tip

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Gimma, Papa, what should I do? Even though I don't believe in the afterlife I feel like you're still here, whispering advice into my ear I will never hear.

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I can't understand

A strange memory surfaced last night. When I was in elementary school I had a bus driver named David. He was so nice; he threw a party for us at the end of the school year, he let us decorate the bus for holidays, he genuinely cared. He moved to California before I moved up to middle school. My sister and I were David's favorites, along with another pair of sisters. They were both younger than me. I'd guess one was like six and the other nine. We got along alright; we weren't close friends but we were definitely acquaintances. The first day back from Christmas Break when I was in third or fourth grade went normally enough until we got to there stop. They got on bawling; I have never seen crying like that. The younger one cried a lot, but this was the first time I'd seen the older one cry, so I knew something was up. David asked them, "What's wrong? What's wrong?" The little one said, "Daddy's dead. He never came home on Christmas." The mother then got on and told him that there was an accident on Christmas Day. They cried the entire bus ride. I told the older one that I was sorry, but she angrily retorted that I didn't understand. I was offended at the time, but now I know that she was right. I still don't understand. They moved away some time after that. Sometimes I remember them and wonder how they're doing.

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Windy

There's a large window right by the stairs. When I looked out it, the leaves were performing swan lake.

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Leaf

I found a leaf as big as my face.

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There was a turtle and shrimp in the creek. I couldn’t find any minnows.

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Tree

I realized that my tree hadn’t been cut down, it was just taller than I remembered. A lot taller. I know that I’m not able to climb it now. I wonder how I climbed it back then.

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Witch's House

I head into the house. It’s been repainted, and there’s giant keep out signs on the door we used to break into. The top floor is repainted too; no sign of what we wrote. As I looked for it, I heard a little boy whisper under me, “You know a witch lives here…”

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Adulting at the Park

They cut down the first tree I ever climbed. In its place is a plastic green park bench. That poor buffalo is still trapped in that little room. The witch’s house has been painted lime green, and they tore down that dangerous thing we used to bounce on. It’s smaller than I remember. Although I’m no longer bound by the counselors, I have no restrictions placed upon me: those of adulthood. It is no longer socially acceptable to jump off the swings or play in the creek. A group of kids are playing in the witches house; their parents will probably give me funny looks when I go in. Right now I’m walking along the creek we used to always hike by when the counselors thought we were being good. There’s more water in it now. It feels very suburban. I suppose it always was, but when I was young it was such a magical place that I didn’t notice.

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Bubble Baths and Hot Cocoa

Just when I thought all the bad news was over tons more came. Oh well. Nothing Lush bath bombs and Swiss Miss hot chocolate can’t fix. ☕️

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When Will my Health Return from War

I didn’t used to be sickly, you know. I used to never get sick. I could run miles and sprint 400s like it was nothing. I suppose every sick person is like that, though. I remember how much I pitied sick people while I was healthy. I felt bad for those with asthma, those with diabetes, and when Cassidy got cancer, well, that was indescribable. But they were all once normal. They once went to school and had dreams like I did. I suppose we hide from the fear of death by distancing ourselves from those experiencing it. I expected there to be a dramatic change when a person went from being healthy to being ill, but I’ve come to realize that life goes on, and you merely adapt to your new situation. People always tell me they feel so bad for me, but nothing’s really changed except I sleep a lot more. I resent not having the physical capacity that I used to, but I’ve adjusted to my new limits accordingly. I know people think I’m going through this difficult, earth shattering time, but even when the earth explodes you continue life on what pieces are left. Human beings are pretty damn adaptable, and that is what gives me the courage to continue on. Because even if I never end up getting better, I will just continue to adjust to whatever life throws at me.

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Parkinson's

"This is super unlikely, but all of your symptoms match early onset Parkinson's." My doctor had no idea the bomb she had unleashed. To most, Parkinson's was a disease that old people get, with wheelchairs and jerky movements. To me, it was my grandfather's last agonizing years of life, death in its most horrible form, the slow trickle of life dripping out of your body. Anything but Parkinson's, please.

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Katherine Fleischer Park

For the first time in five years, I was to go the park today. For seven years of my life I visited it every week, but when the rink disappeared so did my awareness of it. This morning, I had a dream I was there. I splashed in the creek, climbed our favorite tree, and ate animal crackers in the pavilion. Then it was time to go to the main attraction, the cottage. We used to say that a witch lived there, and that she trapped children in her basement. I climbed up the stairs, feeling the wood, past the locked door that we were never able to open. But when I got to the top, it was empty. The words we’d written on the wall had faded like our friendship. I awoke to weather too cold to go outside in.