So there are days I will remember. Specific days. Days in which I did things. Real things. With real people. Real, living, breathing people. People who are really good at the whole waking up and getting out and being alive thing, something that I have fallen out of practice with. And these are specific things that I did with specific people that I will remember. That day when I lost myself at the beach with my friends. That day I got in a 4-way wrestling match with my best friend and 2 dogs. The day I decided on a college. That night I spent driving on highways with a boy, laughing until our laughter matched the sound of the acceleration and we forgot that the road that was taking us away would also take us back.
And then there are the days I won’t remember. Not because they are unimportant, but because they will all meld into one big gob of nothingness. Days in which I didn’t do things. That I didn’t spend with real, live people who could remind that I am human and that I am, at my core, a happy person. Because those are the days that I lost myself in Cyberland, with no one around to find me. It is far too easy to get caught up in the hypnotic scroll of Tumblr, to bury myself in the follies and feelings of others as they find solace and entertainment here. It is easy to forget that while there are real people behind these photosets and posts and queues, they are not, for the time being, living, breathing people who will sit with me when I cry and scream with me when I’m angry or wrestle with me and 2 dogs when I want attention from a boy. They can’t drive with me through the night to forget our troubles and they can’t pull me back from the ledge that I so often find myself at.
In short, I am a living, breathing person, and I have forgotten that I need living, breathing people by my side to remind me to wake up, get out, and get better at this whole being alive thing. But it is days like this that I remember.