Let's Get Stuck.

     It seems like this past week every little moment has seemed so significant, like every single second is one I'll remember until death...or at least for the next few months. I don't know how much longer I can keep this feeling up, because it takes a lot out of me. I feel like everything that happens to me has to be documented, cataloged, and written about. Today my mom and I went out and got a dress for graduation (dress shopping is the worst) and then I picked up MF and we went for a hike at Cunningham Falls and as we were leaving the falls this announcement came on over some unseen loud speaker and it was too muffled to make out any of the words but I was like "It feels like we're in the Hunger Games. People are going to come out of the woods and start shooting us" and MF was like "Dude it does!" and as the announcement was still going these park rangers came down the trail in full uniform and we were like "IT'S REAL." Anyway, we drove home and DL came over and we ate dinner and watched a movie and ate too much candy and then as I was driving MF home I was like "Are you excited for graduation?" and she was like "No" and I was like "Are you sad?" and she was like "No, I'm mad." And I get that. It's like we've finally reached the point where everything about high school is peaches and roses (that's not a saying but I'm making it one...or maybe it is a saying, who knows) and now we're getting kicked out. That's a bit unfair. Dang it I have three minutes to finish this. I'm going to cheat and post it now and then update it and it'll say that I posted it today when really I didn't finish it until after midnight. I know how to work the system.
     Anyway, I hate how stinking bittersweet everything is and how everything feels like a last instead of a first. After I dropped MF off, I rolled down my window and the sickly sweet scent of cow crap came rolling in on the warm late-May air and I wanted to feel something so badly; I wanted to cry or smile or anything, but instead I just screamed really loudly for a fraction of a second as I was coasting down the hill to the stinky blinky. But it was the least satisfying scream ever. It didn't even sound like me, and it didn't even sound like a good scream. It was like that fake scream you scream when a roller coaster isn't that exciting but you try to make it exciting by screaming your lungs out; it's too high-pitched and doesn't come from the pit of your stomach like it's supposed to. So then there was just all this pent-up energy in me and the air was warm and smelled like honey suckle and the sky was all purple and sparkly and I wanted to be anywhere but here; I wanted to be running on the beach at Cape May scaring ghost crabs back into the water; I wanted to be flying down the causeway on one of our old, rusty Schwinns at the bay; I wanted to be outside somewhere with my friends, stuck in time. Somewhere we didn't have to move on, somewhere we didn't have to let go. Stuck. I wanted to be stuck in the best memories with them, frozen.
     It's easy to move on from something that makes you miserable; but it's gut-wrenching to move on from something that brings you joy. I know that moving forward isn't forgetting; it's not leaving behind and it's not goodbye. But it sure is hard.

Day 919 Song Recommendation: "Stuck in a Moment You Can't Get Out Of" by U2.

-SE Wagner