What This Is

It’s a blank word processor document, that rhythmically winking line coaxing you to start something new.

It’s the peeling paint on the garage from no primer, the peeling skin on your feet from no shoes.

It’s laying in your driveway with nothing to do.

It’s your first concussion, your first stitches, breaks, bruises.

It’s watching Scooby Doo because you want to.

It’s hating your parents’ music.

It’s having faith in everything and everyone having faith in you.

It’s that rush of adrenaline after an inhaler puff before a basketball game.

It’s the first running nose of every winter and the first sunburn of every summer.

It’s counting on that.

It’s counting on every December and June and the jump and drop in between. The up and the down.  The Spring and the Fall.

It’s making a shiny new friend with everything in the world to talk about.

It’s every smell reminding you of something happy.

It’s looking at yourself in the mirror, really looking, and wondering when you got there. Or when you checked out.

It’s the feeling of a loose tooth, tender gum underneath, penny blood lining the border.

It’s elevators transforming from something fun and scary to just another adult placeholder. Here to there and nothing else.

It’s jokes wearing out and being forgotten, left in stale lockers and lunch boxes.

It’s being tired, really. Really tired.

It’s crying every time you hear a Garth Brooks song because you hear your dad. And your dad isn’t singing along.

It’s nobody ever reading these things and kind of liking it better that way.

It’s struggling to make conversation with old, dusty brick walls.

It’s always having something to occupy your time.

It’s those old stitches and breaks and bruises turning into aches and pains and scars.

It’s watching Scooby Doo, not because you want to, but because you need to.

It’s every smell reminding you of something sad that once was happy. Or maybe it can be both but at the same time.

It’s all of the boundaries becoming misty and the fog rolling in.

It’s the realization of all of your teachers one day dying. The same with the mailman, the ice cream truck driver, Jack Nicholson, Wheel of Fortune.

It’s suddenly clear that you can identify with more than happy and sad. Blinding Anxiety. Throbbing hurt. Stifling Stress.

It’s a full word processor document.  Same rhythmically winking line, but the page is all dirty, no longer new. Covered in scattered words and thoughts.

It’s weaved with a kind of sticky sadness. It doesn’t end with hope, because hope is the idea that it will never end.

It’s saving your progress. Leaving it behind. Coming back to check on it once in a while.

It’s one day clicking the “new” button and being coaxed into that neat, white page. And it’s kind of feeling guilty about it at first.

It’s then that it is understood that you’ve probably done this before, filling up folders and folders of your dwellings.

It’s that rhythmically winking line telling you it’s okay to move on. TC mark

image – [F]oxymoron

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  • asdjf

    Thank you for:
    a) not writing about Halloween
    b) not using the term twenty-something
    c) not mentioning NYC
    d) not assuming anything about your audience

    • http://www.facebook.com/grc15r Gregory Costa

      Agreed.  I feel like each of those is mentioned twenty-something times a day.  Good job.

    • http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1363230138 Michael Koh

      Thanks for mentioning all of those in your comment.

  • http://twitter.com/BeejMachine Beej Machine

    That was kind of beautiful.

  • guest

    I love this. Except now I can’t get that gross loose tooth feeling to go away.

  • http://twitter.com/melvinismad Melvin Alvarez

    This >> “It’s crying every time you hear a Garth Brooks song because you hear your dad. And your dad isn’t singing along.”

  • Verona

    “It doesn’t end with hope, because hope is the idea that it will never end.”

    Truth.

  • Katewolffe

    “not because you want to, but because you need to.” Love this entire piece.

  • Megan

    this is so much different than anything i’ve read on thought catalog.

    i love it

  • megs

    i really enjoyed this… it just really hit the spot

  • Jsnair

    This was just plain fulfilling to read. Awesome.

  • http://www.facebook.com/nattusmith Natt Smith

    I was trying to think of something witty to comment but really all I can say is this made me feel like I was ageing along with the sentences.  How quickly things once magical fade away. 

  • shainanana

    This, at 4.18 am, after spending all night in the library, feeling overworked, unable to remember what rested feels like, looking around and realizing that young as you are, you’re getting old.  You’re feeling old. You go to parties where you sit with your friends and think about when you were as young as the bubbly teenagers around you and wonder if you miss it or not.  This writing is exactly what I needed to read, right now.  I know this gets thrown around a lot, but I feel like you just ripped this from my head.  

  • http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1363230138 Michael Koh

    I was trying to figure out what ‘this’ was. At first, I thought it was pain – physical pain – but I guess it’s sort of right… Physical and emotional pain.

  • rooar

    this is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever read. Thanks.

  • Rebecca

    “It’s the realization of all of your teachers one day dying. The same
    with the mailman, the ice cream truck driver, Jack Nicholson, Wheel of
    Fortune.”

    Yep. So real I think Imma cry.

  • JT

    There are only a couple things on Though Catalog that I’ve actually saved in my bookmarks because they are well-written, beautiful, and inspiring. This is now one of them.

  • Guest

    This.  “It’s looking at yourself in the mirror, really looking, and wondering when you got there. Or when you checked out”
    This was beautiful, please keep writing

  • Deirdree_lynn

    stunning

  • kjoy

    I know I am being repetitive, what I have to say has already been said, but thank you.  Sometimes you read something that takes your breath away because it so poignantly capture a thought, an emotion, a feeling buried deep in your heart in a way that is both remarkably beautiful and devastatingly painful.  Your piece gave life to the emotions and feelings I am silently struggling with, because I know I have the words to explain it, but you have the talent to take those words and emotions and weave them into something beautiful, into a work of art that everyone can connect to on a very deep level.  

  • Laurie

    Thank you.

  • Tori Houston

    This >>  “It’s every smell reminding you of something sad that once was happy. Or maybe it can be both but at the same time.” So perfect. Thank you.

  • http://twitter.com/amseries AM Santos

    “It’s always having something to occupy your time.” – Simply amazing. Thank you because I liked the way this occupied my time.

  • Audrey

    This is a knockout

  • Anonymous
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