Memory, all alone in the moonlight
I can smile at the old days
I was beautiful then
I remember the time I knew what happiness was
Let the memory live again
Burnt out ends of smokey days
The stale cold smell of morning
The streetlamp dies, another night is over
Another day is dawning
Daylight, I must wait for the sunrise
I must think of a new life
I saw Cats in the beginning of third grade and I had felt a profound connection with Grizabella. One day I had ignored my friends (this was before Rebecca even, just to show how fucking long ago this was), I sat on top of a slide, and sang this from the play (yeah, I guess a part of me has never cared what anyone else thought). I remember wondering about the future and pondering if I would even remember that day (which I do with amazing clarity). I didn’t understand life and I tried desperately to find the answers. As a nine-year-old girl, I already had a deep hatred for the world and I had felt I was missing something in my life, missing something that would make me happy. I didn’t know what, maybe it was innocence or ignorance. I understood too much for my age and understood too little to help change it. Later that same year, I would go to my first funeral, I would see my first intoxicated family member, I would get rushed into the ER, and I would not discover what a true and amazing friendship was until the next year, and I wouldn’t discover what it meant to love someone until sophomore year of high school. I had always wanted to be eighteen. I thought maybe it was freedom that I lacked. I am so scared now, because I know freedom will better my life, but it will not however make me happy, because I never will be completely free with or without my parents. Society cages us like wild animals, teaches us wrong, and makes us ignorant. I am certainly not extremely smart. Rebecca’s IQ far surpasses my own. However I am aware of humanities faults more acutely than anyone I have ever met, nor will I likely meet. I long for something I will never receive. Even the ones who love and care about me more than I could ever deserve, cannot help me. I wonder then, why must I go on? I guess because I might be able to bring some happiness and enlightenment with me. Mostly likely, I will continue to be a burden and upset even those I love, however on this I have not given up hope. If I bring some joy to one of the marvelous people whom I love so dearly, then my tortured existence is worth fighting for.
