joyrider

it's strange to think about people i know who have died. i remember when my grandmother died, i dreamt of a mossy fountain. i was sitting with her, and she was telling me to never be afraid, not ever. nana liked to give unsolicited advice. it was usually good advice, though.

i just finished writing about a boy i knew who hung himself in a barn. he and i were friends: we liked metal and beer and being 14 and angry. he liked it so much he made himself that way forever. i don't think about hiim much anymore, but when i do it seems skewed - like it was weeks or lifetimes, not years.

i have been thinking about time a lot lately, and how we have only so much, but we plan for futures that never come and waste days like we have forever. we do have forever, but that forever is in the space of the moment. that moment is the crest of a wave, alive, smashing someday into the shore, and running out to sea. get some go again. fuck planning - that's dying.