Meghan: It's a fine line

“When will you cut this bullshit?” Her voice trembled in the cold air. Not in sadness; never in sadness, but in rage. The object of her rage laughed before her, blowing out a silken thread of cigarette smoke into the night.
“What bullshit?” he asked, leaning against the hood of his car, “I’m telling you everything.”
“You’re telling me nothing.” She hissed at him. The snow crackled under her feet as she stepped closer to him, “I ask you about it and you just blow me off.” She snaps her hand in front of her face, “Like I am nothing to you?”
Why did she say that?
The blue, patterned scarf that she wore was one he had bought for her seventeenth birthday. He had slunk sheepishly into her favorite clothing store and stared at the pastel racks in horror while giggles seemed to stab at him from all sides.
It matched her eyes
He grimaced and blew out another puff of smoke, “I don’t know what you want from me.”
She nearly screamed in frustration, “I’ve been telling you all this time and you still don’t understand? I just want to talk to you!”
He flicked the cigarette to the ground, “Do you think that I don’t have a life besides with you?”
When did it get so…
Angry
Choked
She jammed her hands into the pockets of her woolen coat, “I can’t wait forever for you to get your head on straight. I have a life to live too; there are plenty of guys who I could…”
The words died at her lips as his head swiveled around and his eyes met hers, “What? There are plenty of guys who could what?” he asked dully.
Get angry damn you! Fight, laugh, scream; anything but that damned apathy!
She wanted to say it, but she didn’t.
She wanted to take his face in her hands and kiss the sorrow away, but she didn’t.
So they both just stood
Thinking it, needing it, but…
“So I guess that’s it then.” she said coolly
Heart breaking
Earth shaking
Please God, don’t let him say it.
I need him, please—
“I guess so.” He took another pack of smokes from his pocket and lit up again.
No
How?
How did this happen?

-Meghan

Meghan: Lovely interpretations

I don’t like it.

I wish I could start a blog with rainbows and unicorns and other such happy things, but, well…sorry, that’s just not how I roll.

What don’t I like?

It all started when a group of friends from Taekwondo and I went to dairy queen a few hours ago, and for some stupid reason we decided to partake in friendly debate (haha friendly debate among opinionated college students, that’s funny)

We argued about McDonalds v Burger King, Led Zeppelin v Iron Maiden, karate v taekwondo, embryonic stem cell research v adult stem cell research, etc.

Eventually (I don’t know how) we started on the topic of love. The preacher in our group (it’s north Carolina, they’re everywhere don’t worry about it) asked us if any of us could define love.

Oh God, how in all hells do you answer that one? Well he gave us his answer (somehow delivered using spoons for diagrams):

“Love is when you tolerate someone else no matter what.”

I looked at him, staring, unbelieving that he could make something so wonderful sound so boring and mundane. Love=toleration? That’s it? That was so…the very thought was rejected by my mind as soon as I heard it. Maybe the definition made sense in some corner of my thoughts but the shining swirl of light that was love wasn’t toleration. Toleration was the thing that I did with people I didn’t like but couldn’t kill; so I just had to live with them. I don’t even ‘tolerate’ people I like.

I tried to beat Mark over the head with my ideas but he was so utterly convinced with his ideal love that I couldn’t convince him of anything. The closest I got was when I said in a frustrated voice, “There’s no possible way you can describe love, it’s just love.” He looked at me and said, “You’re close.” Thank you, I feel so much better. I will keep my interpretations and you can keep yours, and may you find love with them.

"Not a shred of evidence exists in favor of the idea that life is serious."

Brendan Gill

-Meghan