Life as an Extreme Sport

Missing J

Oh, when I’m lonely, I lie awake at night and I wish you were here. I miss you.

It’s been a year, and yet I still see you. I see you on campus and walking down Broadway, I see you paused in front of a store, head tilted near verticle. Your shape, your form and movement, everywhere. And it’s never you, and it never can be and never will be you. I wonder when I will adjust?

I sat for a long while outside The Paper Zone, just staring at the Krispy Kreme. I hadn’t known it was there, or I might have skipped going. But I didn’t, and I did, and so I sat. I thought about dinner at Outback, a nod to tradition, but knew I wouldn’t make it through without breaking down. In fact, save two hiccups during the day – and not while facing Krispy Kreme – I didn’t break down until bedtime, now. And now I can’t stop crying.

I miss you.

I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive you.

This existance of ours is as transient as autumn clouds.
To watch the birth and death of beings is like looking at the movements of a dance.
A lifetime is like a flash of lightning in the sky,
Rushing by, like a torrent down a steep mountain.

What is born will die,
What has been gathered will be dispersed,
What has been accumulated will be exhausted,
What has been built up will collapse,
And what has been high will be brought low.

The only thing we really have is nowness, is now.
-The Buddha