"On heaven's golden shores we'll lay our heads"

"Write about a song that reminds you of someone, then state why."

Every time I hear the song "Golden" by My Morning Jacket, I think of Lindsay.
Not really the entire song, but there's a specific part that reminds me of her and it goes like this:

"You, you always told me / No matter how long it holds me / If it falls apart or makes us millionaires / You'll be right here forever / Go through this thing together / And on heaven's golden shores lay our heads."

This quote reminds me of Lindsay because this girl single-handedly got me through the most miserable days of my life to date. And I feel guilty that I never acknowledged the part she played in getting me back on track, or that I have never been able to return the help. The day the shit hit the fan, she was the one I called and she was the one that told me that in time, I would pick myself back up again and move on, just like before, and she was right.
Lindsay spent days and nights listening to me sort through my problems out loud on the top level of the parking lot as we rocked back and forth on our skateboards, offering up advice and reasoning even though time and again I couldn't hear what she was really saying. In the end, I think it's important to note that Lindsey taught me that everything happens for a reason, and that in the end, it will all work out the way it's supposed to.
I came out on the other side better and stronger than I was before and a lot credit goes to Lindsay for that, simply because she was a good friend to me when I needed it most.
Although I don't adhere to all aspects of the Christian religion, Jesus can feel free to approach me if there is any speculation at all over Lindsay's character. I will personally vouch for her.

So there was this boy...

"When did you notice it had left you, assuming you noticed at all? Write about a strong emotional feeling you had once, one that you were sure would never go away. Write about how it went away slowly or suddenly."

Doctors in the Middle Ages used to believe that lovesickness actually existed and caused physical problems and that the only way to cure lovesickness was to consummate the love through sex. Although I can't confirm that sex cures it, even though I believed this theory was a crock of crap for years I now know that love can make you sick. After I first saw him I was ill for three weeks. He was the only thing I could think about and my stomach felt like it was churning all the time. I couldn't keep down any food except buttered sourdough toast and EasyMac.
Given my symptoms at the time, I think it's safe to say that this boy threw me for a loop. I remember being so upset at the fact that we couldn't seem to just get together, because to me, it felt so inevitable. What I didn't realize was that I had entered into an infatuation with a boy that was socially inept.
Finally, after an extremely long time deliberating what I should do to put things in full swing (as I assumed they should be ), I approached him and admitted that I liked him. I remember the moment so vividly because it was on a whim that I decided to confess myself to him and I entered this sort of tunnel vision. I stood outside his dorm-room door for a good five minutes, pacing back and forth, trying to talk myself out of it. I guess I must've known by then that I was doomed, but I just didn't want to admit it (because you can never admit these kinds of things when you've been so blindly in love with someone for so long).
And so it was that I found myself standing next to him, balancing on the back legs of the chair at his desk, dumbstruck at how I had gotten myself there, unable to come up with the words I'd rehearsed for months. I made some excuses out loud about not being able to remember what I came in to talk to him about at midnight on a Thursday, but finally forced myself to state, very simply, that I liked him, and that I didn't see it working out and that I just needed to admit it to him so I could get it off my shoulders and move on.
He didn't say anything. He just sat there, his arm draped lazily over his head, his eyes on me but not giving it away. "Ok," he finally managed to reply.
"Ok," I said. "So, I'll see you around."
And with that, I left.
As I walked home under the dark, drizzling Parisian sky, I felt relieved, and free of all the feelings that had been haunting me for so long. I thought I was just leaving him behind with all those quick strides I took further away from his tiny dorm-room in a modest Parisian high-rise apartment building, but now I realize how much I left behind that night.
I left behind a list of naive impressions and hopes and dreams. I left behind that dazed and confused cloud I'd been walking around in for so long. I left behind that sick feeling in my stomach that I still got every so often when he looked straight at me with those big blue eyes. But the sick feeling was replaced by something else; it was more of a heavy feeling of loss and of hurt, deep down.
More important than my naive daydreams of love and what should be, I lost the confidence I had, if only briefly; that tunnel vision with which I was driven for those ten minutes that became one of the defining moments of my life.
Looking back, I know I had to do it, and that it never would have worked out, but every once in awhile, I remember the boy with the blue eyes that make me sick with love and how I was lost in this daydream for months and months and months. Then suddenly it all washed away; the way he had once transformed absolutely everything now just seemed like it had been obscured, abstracted, refracted and fragmented.

*** Disclaimer: Yes I was really emotional when I wrote this but this is my blog so I get to post whatever I want which means I get to write about whatever I feel like writing about in whatever manner I choose so deal.