July 7th. 2012
Dear friend,
I've been feeling alone ever since we left seven years ago. This place is terrible, I know my Father was telling the truth about us having a larger home and a better school, but it most certainly was a lie about the better friends. Everybody here seems so tired, they all are busy, too busy to appreciate anything, all are too busy following their futures without bothering to stop a second to enjoy the present, all are greedy.
I've been living solo until last year. Some guy moved into our school and he later became my second friend ever, right after you. I liked him because he seemed to care less about troubles, he seemed to enjoy life as it is, and he used to always criticize my depression, telling me that compared to him, I have no rights to frown. He also liked reading, said it kept him distracted of the pain (He always felt pain). And although he gave me hope, he always helped in me losing some hope (makes sense? no?) for He was always sick, always tired, and sometimes he couldn't even leave bed. So I used to go read to him the same way I read our favorite book to you (Remember? It was a queer book, wasn't it?) Only this time I can read perfectly, without having to spell the long words the way I used to do. I really liked him, and I always wished you'd be here so you too can meet him..
...too bad.. I just watched him slowly falling below the ground, into his grave.
Although I haven't exactly felt joyous ever since we reached this hell-hole, I haven't ever felt this horrible neither, except for the day we left seven years ago.That day, I couldn't say goodbye to bye to you, so instead, I wrote a good-bye letter and hid it in your school bag. it was the last time I ever wrote anything, and I guess I'm writing you again because I now can relate to that day's pain.. only you won't get to read it this time.
You know what, Rose? It's funny, how losing a friend gives you the same satanic feels, even though the ways you lose them varies; death, distance, a fight, or even a win.. does it matter? I believe not. Because, DAMN IT! it'll always kill a little part of you anyways.
That day -the day we left- I told my father that I don't want to leave because we -You and I- made a vow that we'll forever be friends. And he said something I found very queer about friendship not being something that ends, that it becomes a part of you and that distance or death doesn't kill it, that it only makes it grow stronger. I think I now do understand what means my father had when he said that, because despite the fact that my friend is now coating himself with sand, buried.. dead... I still think of him as my friend.
...
...
...I'm sorry Rose, but I think I shall stop writing about my friend.. It's painful.
Let's talk about something else, a bit more cheerful now.
-You might be wondering if I sticked to that oath, if what I wrote on that letter that day is true, that I still do think of you as my best friend. I'll tell you something first, then you decide, okay?
Many years ago, I started noticing that many people are talking about this "adults matter" called love.. at first I tried not to think about it. But as I grew older, more people my age started talking about it, and I didn't know what it meant, thinking that I'd look childish if I ask about it.. so I remained naive up until one day when a girl I knew asked me if I ever "fell in love". I do hear many people talk about it, but I always try to avoid conversations that concerns it. Thus it was my first time hearing the expression "falling in it." and to be honest here.. I started laughing hysterically, because (Due to a child's logic) you can't fall on anything but the ground. Meaning that love is just a synonym for ground, and that all of my thoughts about it being an adults matter were naught but mere delusions. I guess I scared the girl by the hysterical laugh because she just walked away. (No seriously, I was such a creepy child, maybe a bit "TOO" stupid too.)
I hurried back home to tell my mother that I learned a new word: "LOVE".
mom let out a nervous laugh then told my father later that day.
My father paid me a late night visit, saying he wants to have a "very special father/son conversation" then literally started talking nonsense, making sure to make me doubt whatever slight bit of logic I built in my few years I lived. He kept talking about birds and bees and many other queer stuff that mostly bored, confused and depressed me.. So I decided to fall asleep as he talks. Well, he then finally started talking about what I was mostly interested about; love.
what my father told me about love that day is that it's some sort of a "grown-ups friendship". except for that it's "warmer" and has more caring to it than ordinary friendships.. an hour later, he finally noticed that I couldn't make sense out of what he was saying, so he ended his preach with: "You'll understand when you feel it."
Years passed since that day, and I kept trying to understand what "love" meant, But all of my tries were in deep vain. I gave up at last.. Well, until something changed in me one day. At some random day, and when least expected, I woke up with this tiny tingly sweet feeling in my chest.. I knew it had something to do with the dream I just woke up from, because I simply refused to leave my bed, a voice in my held told me to stick to that dream, even though I couldn't exactly remember a single detail of it. Then the feeling started repeating itself constantly but each time the dream what clearer. And even though the dreams always seemed to be alien and un-understandable to me, there was always this one common thing I could make between them: You.
-Dear Rose,
I know it's insane to love a person whom you can't remember their face, I know that love is a huge word, that one shouldn't use it carelessly, just as much as I know that my friend can't be brought back, and I know that the love that people feel towards each other.. is something I can only feel towards you..
Now, do I still think of you as my best friend? I think you mean a little more to me..
Yours,
Aaron D.Semion.
Dear friend,
I've been feeling alone ever since we left seven years ago. This place is terrible, I know my Father was telling the truth about us having a larger home and a better school, but it most certainly was a lie about the better friends. Everybody here seems so tired, they all are busy, too busy to appreciate anything, all are too busy following their futures without bothering to stop a second to enjoy the present, all are greedy.
I've been living solo until last year. Some guy moved into our school and he later became my second friend ever, right after you. I liked him because he seemed to care less about troubles, he seemed to enjoy life as it is, and he used to always criticize my depression, telling me that compared to him, I have no rights to frown. He also liked reading, said it kept him distracted of the pain (He always felt pain). And although he gave me hope, he always helped in me losing some hope (makes sense? no?) for He was always sick, always tired, and sometimes he couldn't even leave bed. So I used to go read to him the same way I read our favorite book to you (Remember? It was a queer book, wasn't it?) Only this time I can read perfectly, without having to spell the long words the way I used to do. I really liked him, and I always wished you'd be here so you too can meet him..
...too bad.. I just watched him slowly falling below the ground, into his grave.
Although I haven't exactly felt joyous ever since we reached this hell-hole, I haven't ever felt this horrible neither, except for the day we left seven years ago.That day, I couldn't say goodbye to bye to you, so instead, I wrote a good-bye letter and hid it in your school bag. it was the last time I ever wrote anything, and I guess I'm writing you again because I now can relate to that day's pain.. only you won't get to read it this time.
You know what, Rose? It's funny, how losing a friend gives you the same satanic feels, even though the ways you lose them varies; death, distance, a fight, or even a win.. does it matter? I believe not. Because, DAMN IT! it'll always kill a little part of you anyways.
That day -the day we left- I told my father that I don't want to leave because we -You and I- made a vow that we'll forever be friends. And he said something I found very queer about friendship not being something that ends, that it becomes a part of you and that distance or death doesn't kill it, that it only makes it grow stronger. I think I now do understand what means my father had when he said that, because despite the fact that my friend is now coating himself with sand, buried.. dead... I still think of him as my friend.
...
...
...I'm sorry Rose, but I think I shall stop writing about my friend.. It's painful.
Let's talk about something else, a bit more cheerful now.
-You might be wondering if I sticked to that oath, if what I wrote on that letter that day is true, that I still do think of you as my best friend. I'll tell you something first, then you decide, okay?
Many years ago, I started noticing that many people are talking about this "adults matter" called love.. at first I tried not to think about it. But as I grew older, more people my age started talking about it, and I didn't know what it meant, thinking that I'd look childish if I ask about it.. so I remained naive up until one day when a girl I knew asked me if I ever "fell in love". I do hear many people talk about it, but I always try to avoid conversations that concerns it. Thus it was my first time hearing the expression "falling in it." and to be honest here.. I started laughing hysterically, because (Due to a child's logic) you can't fall on anything but the ground. Meaning that love is just a synonym for ground, and that all of my thoughts about it being an adults matter were naught but mere delusions. I guess I scared the girl by the hysterical laugh because she just walked away. (No seriously, I was such a creepy child, maybe a bit "TOO" stupid too.)
I hurried back home to tell my mother that I learned a new word: "LOVE".
mom let out a nervous laugh then told my father later that day.
My father paid me a late night visit, saying he wants to have a "very special father/son conversation" then literally started talking nonsense, making sure to make me doubt whatever slight bit of logic I built in my few years I lived. He kept talking about birds and bees and many other queer stuff that mostly bored, confused and depressed me.. So I decided to fall asleep as he talks. Well, he then finally started talking about what I was mostly interested about; love.
what my father told me about love that day is that it's some sort of a "grown-ups friendship". except for that it's "warmer" and has more caring to it than ordinary friendships.. an hour later, he finally noticed that I couldn't make sense out of what he was saying, so he ended his preach with: "You'll understand when you feel it."
Years passed since that day, and I kept trying to understand what "love" meant, But all of my tries were in deep vain. I gave up at last.. Well, until something changed in me one day. At some random day, and when least expected, I woke up with this tiny tingly sweet feeling in my chest.. I knew it had something to do with the dream I just woke up from, because I simply refused to leave my bed, a voice in my held told me to stick to that dream, even though I couldn't exactly remember a single detail of it. Then the feeling started repeating itself constantly but each time the dream what clearer. And even though the dreams always seemed to be alien and un-understandable to me, there was always this one common thing I could make between them: You.
-Dear Rose,
I know it's insane to love a person whom you can't remember their face, I know that love is a huge word, that one shouldn't use it carelessly, just as much as I know that my friend can't be brought back, and I know that the love that people feel towards each other.. is something I can only feel towards you..
Now, do I still think of you as my best friend? I think you mean a little more to me..
Yours,
Aaron D.Semion.
