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Mar. 16th, 2005 11:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
singerinthedarkSo it's really friggin' late, and I should be at home studying for my eight o'clock final, but here I am in the computer lab typing yet another entry for livejournal. Go figure.
I just had an interesting conversation with Matt's best friend about an hour ago. We were talking about fate. See, there's a part of me that wants to feel like Matt got tangled up in some really, really bad karma that weekend. Four or five other people died in highway accidents in Sacramento between Saturday and Sunday. There's another part of me that hopes this was Matt's time to die, and that there is some reason or lesson that I personally am supposed to draw from all of this. And, there is yet another part of me that thinks, free-will working and all, that Matt or I or both of us screwed up some decision somewhere that lead to all of this. (Back to the woulda, shoulda, coulda cycle.)
I'm having a hard time accepting that I will probably never know the answer to that question until I am dead, at which point I'll either know, or I won't and it won't matter anymore. It does matter, though. There's a part of me that really needs to know now why I'm still here. Part of me thinks it's better if I don't so that I'll do what needs doing when it needs to be done, and not try to rush things along to catch up to Matt.
The one thing I am sure of is that Matt and I were meant to be. We got out of our respective relationships at the same time - about six months before we met. Over the next six months, Matt and I just barely missed each other by moments. I found out that, not only was he at the showing just before the one I went to when they were having the on campus screening of "Shadow of the Vampire" a few months before we met, but he was with a mutual friend whom I stopped to say hello to. Picnic day (about one month before we met), I was talking to barelyproper, who was in a LARP with me at the time, while pryanksters was preparing to perform. During our (brief) conversation, she squeaked, galloped off, and pounced someone before I got distracted. That someone was Matt. We had overlapping circles of friends. The biggest "coincidence" was that, the night before Matt and I met, we both had a long conversation with ourselves about past relationships. We both came to the conclusion that we were ready for love. We met the very next night at River of Shadows, while it was still on campus in Davis.
This is so hard. Everyday I see something cool that Matt would like, and I want to tell him about it. I say it out loud anyway, as he just might be around to hear it, but it's not the same. I can't kiss his skin, or rub his neck, or lie next to him in our bed and talk the cares, joys, and little wonders of the day into memory. And that sucks.
I keep telling myself that it was a blessing that I could be there to talk Matt through dying. I keep telling myself that my being there helped him to move on. I keep telling myself that he won't just hang around, or be stuck in limbo because he knows that I'll do all right. I hope all of that is true.
It's just that some moments in the day are much more beige without Matt to share them with. And some moments of the day are so much more beautiful for my understanding of how fragile, impermanent, and mutable the world really is. It pulls me in two directions; I find myself sad that the world is so much more dull and angry that I should feel that way because life is a beautiful thing.
I'll stop here before it gets far too late in the evening for me to get some actual studying done. I've been unable to focus, but I've got to keep my "C" in this class. I have to finish what I've started.
I just had an interesting conversation with Matt's best friend about an hour ago. We were talking about fate. See, there's a part of me that wants to feel like Matt got tangled up in some really, really bad karma that weekend. Four or five other people died in highway accidents in Sacramento between Saturday and Sunday. There's another part of me that hopes this was Matt's time to die, and that there is some reason or lesson that I personally am supposed to draw from all of this. And, there is yet another part of me that thinks, free-will working and all, that Matt or I or both of us screwed up some decision somewhere that lead to all of this. (Back to the woulda, shoulda, coulda cycle.)
I'm having a hard time accepting that I will probably never know the answer to that question until I am dead, at which point I'll either know, or I won't and it won't matter anymore. It does matter, though. There's a part of me that really needs to know now why I'm still here. Part of me thinks it's better if I don't so that I'll do what needs doing when it needs to be done, and not try to rush things along to catch up to Matt.
The one thing I am sure of is that Matt and I were meant to be. We got out of our respective relationships at the same time - about six months before we met. Over the next six months, Matt and I just barely missed each other by moments. I found out that, not only was he at the showing just before the one I went to when they were having the on campus screening of "Shadow of the Vampire" a few months before we met, but he was with a mutual friend whom I stopped to say hello to. Picnic day (about one month before we met), I was talking to barelyproper, who was in a LARP with me at the time, while pryanksters was preparing to perform. During our (brief) conversation, she squeaked, galloped off, and pounced someone before I got distracted. That someone was Matt. We had overlapping circles of friends. The biggest "coincidence" was that, the night before Matt and I met, we both had a long conversation with ourselves about past relationships. We both came to the conclusion that we were ready for love. We met the very next night at River of Shadows, while it was still on campus in Davis.
This is so hard. Everyday I see something cool that Matt would like, and I want to tell him about it. I say it out loud anyway, as he just might be around to hear it, but it's not the same. I can't kiss his skin, or rub his neck, or lie next to him in our bed and talk the cares, joys, and little wonders of the day into memory. And that sucks.
I keep telling myself that it was a blessing that I could be there to talk Matt through dying. I keep telling myself that my being there helped him to move on. I keep telling myself that he won't just hang around, or be stuck in limbo because he knows that I'll do all right. I hope all of that is true.
It's just that some moments in the day are much more beige without Matt to share them with. And some moments of the day are so much more beautiful for my understanding of how fragile, impermanent, and mutable the world really is. It pulls me in two directions; I find myself sad that the world is so much more dull and angry that I should feel that way because life is a beautiful thing.
I'll stop here before it gets far too late in the evening for me to get some actual studying done. I've been unable to focus, but I've got to keep my "C" in this class. I have to finish what I've started.
