when i couldn't think of another way to respond to things someone said and realized that we are all liquid things and that nothing is permanent

so i read ms castro's last two blog posts and thought they were quite poignant and beautifully, and incredibly vulnerable for her, considering she usually conceals her true emotions towards things and people with layers of wit, arrogance, stoicism, and general tomfoolery (that's by no means a criticism at all, honestly), and i was more or less amazed by how she realized that knowing yourself, strengths, weaknesses, loves, and hates is only half the battle: you have to accept them.

1. i'd like to say to her that i am honored that she mentioned me anywhere at all in her memories of granada, and that i love being a regularly featured member of the triumvirate, and that i wish i would have known that she had a crush on me in 11th grade (and that robby didn't tell me she was crazy) because that would have solved most of both our problems right there. but alas.

2. if i may quote:

"You should love, over and over again, over and over and over and over again... not because you want it to be perfect, and not because you're looking for the perfect person, but because it is what you have to do to grow." Those words should be carved into stone.

3. and in response to "i miss everyone", it's just like holden said (and i've quoted it before): "don't ever tell anybody anything. if you do, you start missing everybody." but is that true? and what's so terrible about missing people? to miss someone is to have your brain be forcefully aware of what someone does to you, how they positively affect you. however, what is interesting is that in anna's case she didn't seem to miss anyone until she started telling people things. maybe holden was right. but we can't just live in our own little spheres and ignore those who orchestrate great impact on our lives. if i told no one about castro or james or harley or michelle or jamba or anyone i've ever met, i would feel so swollen with unrecognized love that i would turn to stone.

and why do i so often reference things castro has said or done? is it too much? i'm sure. i don't know. it's just that, while i say a lot of things, sometimes i feel like what she says is exactly what i've been trying to say but never was able to.

things are changing. i can feel it in the way the leaves fall to the ground or the way the sun parts the clouds early in the morning. what once seemed permanent and solid is now passing and porous, ephemeral. everything is ridiculously fleeting. in four months we will all not be here. everyone will be separated, even those that i thought i would never see apart (the triumvirate, mainly. and me and michelle.) it just seems impossible to think that physically, logistically, we will not be able to hang out, to see each other, to hear each other's voices in person. to see us smile at each other and hug each other and kiss each other and make fun of each other and tease each other and tell castro how i made her arrogant and manipulate headlines with harley and go to woodranch and read michelle's mind and be in jazz band with everyone i've grown so strangely connected to and hang around my starbucks and i can't even think of the unlimited things i will no longer be able to do, that we, as those who are leaving or being left, will not be able to do. it's incredibly overwhelming, the utter temporary way of things. every single fucking thing we are offered is fleeting and will someday soon be gone, in one way or another. but on to another chapter we go, where we shall establish new (and still ephemeral) permanence, only to uproot it four years hence and move on again and again until, who knows, we finally find love and stability; but then, our minds slowly begin to go, and we lose all sembalance of youth and the beauty of the trees in the early morning.

fuck. fuck. fuck. that's what it all comes down to. the movement of one thing to the next.

and now i too miss everyone. everyone and anyone.

where did they all go?