With so many people gone, I thought it'd be an apt time to speak of that very subject. I considered writing a riddle about absence or loss, but I've already done "nothing" so I went with Ozy instead. As you might pick up from the poem, the King of Kings and I have a love/hate relationship that ends with blank stares and quite a few "eh's." I don't really know why I bother writing "poetry" as one could loosely call it, I'm supposed to be a Math man, but I'm still 17 so I can chalk it up to youthful indiscretion and be done with it when I'm adult. Handy little excuse, eh?
Anyway, back to the topic onhand. Loss. Absence. That feeling we often get when we feel so small and purposeless in a cruel, cruel world where if anyone cares, a rarity indeed, it is merely a guise to hurt or manipulate you for their own sadistic desires in order to satisfy their own insecurities. Not a pleasant feeling. I suppose attempting to block oneself off, emotionally at least, from the entirety of conscious beings normally results in a freefall into despair for the support of others who, whether you consciously acknowledge or reciprocate it or not, really do care is now torn out from under you like the main column supporting the architecture of your soul. Thus you think only to return the hate, for that is what raw apathy with no traces of love turns into, to all those who so callously have forsaken you.
Soon you come to realize that it's just been a mistake. Somehow a hole punctured in the fabric of your support network was torn asunder and although you might not notice it at the time, that small pinprick deflated a once large and buoyant balloon. Maybe it wasn't all that big to begin with, but the loss of air, no matter how much you had, is too much to bear.
Now this is almost certainly romantic hyperbole, but I'm an inverted romantic fool, so I've got the liscense and time to exert it! What this is really about is the "paved paradise" mentality. "You don't know what you've got til it's gone." I think I must be a victim of this unfortunate little syndrome, but in a delayed sort of way. I can take death and change fine. When people leave, I attribute to the process of time, inevitable, nothing more. But subconsciously that balloon begins to deflate and when I try to fall back on something, there's not as much there to cushion my fall. The loss just leaves you empty. For all a person's faults, for the few times you rarely see them, for all the annoying qualities they have, once they've gone your life seems a bit emptier. The death, the departure themselves don't mean much initially. But in time their true effects are revealed.
For me, the most recent "paradises to have been paved" are people like Elizabeth Gilliam, Austin Bowling, and my Beretta. In the case of the Beretta, I didn't realize how much it meant to me. It's dylapidated(Yes that's mispelled on purpose ;) ) condition, it's annoying stick shift, it's redneckish exterior all had a sort of rustic charm that is now gone forever. It had an aura, a being that even if it was in some ways pathetic or repugnant, it had a sort of personality whose absence was felt as much as the absence of any person.
I view myself as a sort of stoic fatalist, taking what comes and going along with the current, so I didn't think change would effect me. Indeed, one of my first thoughts upon limping out of the broken wreckage was "Confound it, I didn't die!" not "Oh my poor, wonderful car!" Similarly when Austin left for North Carolina. I took it as it came, not thinking much of it. It simply occurred, I soon forgot about it. But when he was no longer there to greet me everyday in Chemistry, no longer there to rabidly support his beloved Steelers, no longer in the band room after school for Cory and I to mingle with and discuss the "News of the Day", my life really did get emptier. Similiarly with Elizabeth G. I just took her prescense for granted, but I can no longer be a "minion." The band room is certainly emptier each afternoon, filled with strange freshmen and others, most of which I've never met or have either drifted from. The avenues of support fall one by one, each just a drop in the bucket. It's not initially clear clear their effect, but the combination adds up.
Certainly, I've compensated and expanded. I've gotten to know Cory and David better (I think, they don't speak loud enough so I may be mis-translating Silentese). I make new outlets to new people, and certainly I'm weathering this new emotional storm rather well (at the moment), with the sun soon to fill my horizon. But the loss is still felt, and so poignantly sometimes that I do indeed feel bitter and hateful towards all of the world.
And it gets worse. In a matter of monthes, the Senior class will be gone. Of course, I don't know many of them and of the few that I know, I know even fewer well, but the loss will still be felt. It's simply a fact of life. New bonds will be made just to be smashed to pieces a few moments later. Certainly if I made the effort I could retain some semblance of a "relationship" of some sort with these people, but I don't even do that now. I'm more of a "take what comes to me and let the past be what it is" kind of person. But I have to suffer the consequences that it entails too. And like most "consequences", they simply aren't pleasant.
Thus I sandsurf my way through life, letting things I should grasp hold of slip through my fingers. I can stoically accept the loneliness and regret that comes with it, but that doesn't make it any less painful. Such is the eternal circle. But that's another discussion...
On a final note, another "loss" is that of my calculator watch. Late the week before spring break, my poor, faithful little watch's battery died. Since December of 2000 or 2001, it has provided me with the time, math, and nerdiness I eeded. I would hardly ever "wear" it, even before the strap broke, preferring to sling it around on pencils or wrap it around itself. When the strap finally did break, I discovered the much preferrable method of keeping the wristwatch in my pocket and this method has served me well since. I don't believe It's not likely to be revived. It will be sorely missed.
And now, your much desired moment of silence. That is, until next time...
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