I found this saved in my notes this morning and thought I would share. Drunken ramblings from the backseat of a rusted out Toyota.
December 22nd, 1:44 AM.
Maybe I’m young, maybe I’m drunk, maybe I’m in love, maybe there’s a boy serenading me with acoustic covers in the basement. I want to remember this, these limited number of Friday nights in my mid-twenties where I am alive and free and happy and poor. The lights are green and in his face and an inflatable penguin in the corner reminds me it’s Christmas in four days. I sit on the floor on one of three tropical colored rugs. My pants are velour and our hands are interlocked. This is the end of 2018 and I am alive and I am in love and I never want to forget how this feels.
Fall in love, fall in love fast and be grateful for every second that you breathe. We are limited, we are finite, we are dust, but we are here, we are now, we are solid and as pure as we will ever hope to be. It is the 21st of December and I am here. I take up space both physically and with thought and I will strive to cherish each second of this autonomy. Let me be appreciative and understanding, curious and brave. Let me be kind and in love and filled with the butterflies of youth that migrate south towards middle age. My eyes are closing and sleep is near and tomorrow I will wake up hungover but I will remember this night and this age and these people. I am and will be happy.