The Son Also Settles

Someone from my high school died on Easter. She is the 6th person I’ve gone to high school with to die. I don’t know why she stopped breathing. I hated reading “Our Town” in 10th grade but I get it now.

She died two days after my birthday. A girl and boy who died a year apart have birthdays (in her case) on my birthday and (in his case) one day after. The day I turned 18 my uncle died.

As you get older, your superficial joys dissipate. I don’t want toys, nor do I need them. I have fewer resources for happiness. This is ok. I also don’t cry when I don’t get what I want. I don’t need to be comforted about the inevitability of death. Birthdays remain special whether or not friends shower you in gifts. It is one day that always comes around wherein you can expect to be the center of attention if you wish. Another awful event detracts from my birthday and I understand why. 

I want my birthday back from all the sad shit that lingers in Springfield. I am alive and that should make me happy. I’m too selfish to give my day to the dead.

I just realized that all the songs we love, all the songs that are hits within our little scene, are about friends and belonging.

I’ve got no friends but my animal friends.

This past Friday night was one of the best shows I’ve ever attended. I was so worried that the floor of the house would collapse that I struggled to relax for the first set that I didn’t listen from the wall. During Stinky Smelly’s set a girl fell down in front of me. It was my duty to make sure she didn’t get trampled or injured. I stopped paying attention to everything. I pulled her up. If she kept falling down I’d get upset but I’d never let her stay down. I think that feeling is what humanity is.