Archive for friends

Lovee.

Posted in Love with tags , , , , , , on July 16, 2010 by Sara Lilly

I’ve been unmistakably happier recently. I’ve had a good week. I’ve spent every night this week with my friends doing nothing but sitting and talking around coffee, burgers (veggie of course!) and hookah. Life’s good when you have companions and those things.

So I put the topic as love because I love so passionately as I’ve already mentioned a dozen times in this blog that no one reads. I was telling my friend who I drink tea with on Sunday nights that sometimes I feel the only being who gives me the passionate love I share, is God. Divine love. Maybe God and my mother. But aren’t mothers kind of like gods on Earth for humans?  Sure, our fathers helped make us but our mothers brought us here.

Thinking about motherhood in that way makes me want babies. Not now–oh God, not now. Besides, I’d actually need a little thing called a husband first.

Revelations and Closure? Maybe…

Posted in Love with tags , , , , , , on April 27, 2010 by Sara Lilly

I’ve already spoken about my emotional baggage. I’m seeing a therapist for complicated grief. Anyway, she told me the most amazing thing yesterday,

“It’s okay to be angry.”

After my friend killed himself, I was angry. Furious. But everyone told me, “You shouldn’t be angry, no. He’s dead, we have to remember him. Don’t be angry.” So I wasn’t. I grieved and I praised him and I missed him and I loved him.

“There’s this thing in our culture where we idolize those who have died,” my therapist said. “Someone can be a drug addicted wife beater and when he dies, people will still cry at his funeral and talk about how much of a wonderful person he was. Who’s to say we can’t be mad?”

So I went on a rant. This is it:

Dear friend,

I am pissed off. Why? You left me. Get that? You bailed. This world sucks, I know, I’m living it. We were all sixteen–you think we didn’t have issues? You think it wouldn’t have been just as easy to die instead of sticking it out? You abandoned me. You hurt me. You wrecked me. You ruined a part of me and tainted the best memories I have of high-school. You made me feel guilty. You made her cry everyday for a year. Your dying was a final, “FUCK YOU!” and I am MAD for that.

So when I die and I see you, I will punch you in the face. Afterwards, I’ll hug you cause you’re still my friend and we’ll play cards like we used to when we were sixteen.

Love always,

Me.

God that feels so good. It’s okay to be angry.