they say bad things happen for a reason

how does it feel?

impact. lights. blind blinder blinding.
it's numb. there's no pain.
nothing but the odd realization that your plans for the night/week/month/year have instantly changed.

there's no reason to cry. why would you cry when you feel no pain?

you whimper and you ask for the only people you want to see. other people come anyways. they put your neck in a brace and cut your clothes off and put an IV in your arm even though you've been afraid of IV's ever since you've known what they were. they ask for a number one through ten even though you're no good at gauging ballpark figures. you're inside an ambulance and you think ah, that's what they look like on the inside. you feel like you're floating above yourself, watching. your leg is at an uncomfortable angle and you're horrified to find that you can't move it to make it comfortable. you start crying when you realize you're going to miss the football game. you cry more when you realize you're going to miss the rest of the season.

you go into surgery and are so tired afterwards that you can't even stay awake to watch the game you cried over.

you spend an excruciating helpless horrible month and a half in a wheelchair and shower every other day in a little room all the way across campus. you eat less because your stomach shrinks since you're not using up the same amount of energy that you did when you could walk.

four months later you sit, one leg well and the other leg in a state of infuriating limbo. you still haven't walked. you almost don't remember what it's like so you bring to mind memories like the way cobblestones feel when you run over them, how your foot feels when you stamp your foot in a sandal, the way new grass tickles when you run through it. you reassure yourself that you remember, you remember, you remember.

you make fists and cry and furiously type out your frustrations every so often. people feel sorry for you and let you go into the elevator first. people call you a trooper when they see you out at a bar. people see you on your little university provided scooter and say things like i wish i broke my leg so i could get one of those. you want to punch those people the only thing they don't know is that you'd give anything to be unnoticed, to be just like everyone else, to walk as slow as everyone else. they don't have to deal with this crap along with everything else a normal college student normally does. yeah, it could be worse. but it doesn't matter because when it comes down to it, it still sucks.

you try and try to be as positive as everyone says you are, but it's hard when all you want to do is build a time machine to tell yourself not to cross the street. you're about to crack. everyone's patience runs out eventually. they tell you everything is possible, but for you it's all just out of reach, and you don't know the next time it will be.

so for now all you can do is wring your hands, smile, nod, shrug, and say it's coming along. because there's nothing else you can do if you want to keep yourself sane.

the whispers that it won't last

things i want need to do when i go back to london:

- greenwich/prime meridian
- BRITISH LIBRARY (how could i be so stupid???)
- re-do british museum
- go inside westminster abbey
- high tea at harrod's (or, if i'm poor, somewhere less expensive HA)
- buy something completely useless at the notting hill market
- go to world's end pub in camden
- BRICK LANE. INDIAN FOOD. 'nuff said.
- see romeo and juliet in the globe (this would really be circumstantial...but wouldn't it be AWESOME?!)
- re-do tower of london (it's been too long)
- go back to dovetail, jerusalem tavern, cheshire cheese, roadhouse, the zoo, o'neill's, exmouth...
- thoroughly explore regent's park
- actually go to gordon's wine bar
- REUNITE WITH CAFE CANOVA AND IT'S AMAZING TOMATO SOUP AND BAGUETTE GAHHHH
- stock up on chocolate/caramel digestives, hobnobs, those awesome crackers, bourbon cream cookies, custard cream cookies, those smoothie drink things, weird flavored potato chips, and CADBURY
- actually go to the icebar
- hampstead heath
- see phantom of the opera
- see les miz (again)

- to be continued...

taking a mental picture of you now

Woke up in London yesterday
Found myself in the city near Piccadilly
Don't really know how I got here
I got some pictures on my phone

New names and numbers that I don't know
Address to places like Abbey Road
Day turns to night, night turns to whatever we want
We're young enough to say

Oh this has gotta be the good life
This has gotta be the good life
This could really be a good life, good life

Say oh, got this feeling that you can't fight
Like this city is on fire tonight
This could really be a good life
A good, good life



take me back there. this city is in my bones and i can't get it out. <3

speeding so fast it felt like i was drunk

and even when i'm mad at you i can't help but love your stupid, stupid face. it's so not fair. and it's all your fault.

but if you try sometimes

exactly...except i would never wish i didn't love you, and i could write a thousand books and it still wouldn't come close to what i feel.

i want the world to see you be with me

five minutes to midnight and there you were on the other side of the sliding glass door, leaning on the bar, waiting as we all hovered on the other side waiting for you. i tapped the glass and you grinned and shrugged. two minutes to midnight and i decided it would be okay if we just smiled at each other through the glass because there would be plenty of time for kisses later. 10 9 8 the DJ said and suddenly there you were 7 6 5 forgotten gold chain of my purse still slung over your shoulder 4 3 2 and we didn't even get to say 1 and yes, it was a happy new year indeed.

and i know that it's so cliche

i don't know why it's now that i'm missing london so much, that i'm looking at old pictures and longing, or looking at old quotes and laughing. i see a picture of the parking garage next to our flats and want to cry. i pore over images of the city lit up like a birthday cake and wonder how it is that i lived there for four months like it was nothing, walked down those streets like it was nothing, cherished every moment but never realized how much i'd still miss it, even a whole year after leaving it. i don't think i've ever grown to love a city so much; it wasn't love at first sight but after winding my way through its intricacies every day i just can't forget it, can't shake it off. i can't imagine not going back, but i can't imagine it ever being the same. but i guess that's the thing about london, as it is with every good city: it's alive, it never stays the same, it breathes - and even though the worn cobblestones remain and the old buildings still stand, there will always be something different about that place and maybe that's why i love it so much.

for months after i always wondered if i had made the right choice. should i have tried harder for rome, the first city i ever loved, the beauty, the food, the ancient-ness of it all? or australia which everyone seemed to love so much - the sweeping landscapes, the crazy nights, crazy travels? or spain or mexico with a language i knew but a totally different culture? i watched abroad friend groups get stronger and others fall apart, while my own group of 20 dwindled down to about 6. but even though a big part of london, for me, was the people i met there, in the end it's not about that, and it's not about missing out on something i could've gotten if i had studied abroad somewhere else. it's about the way i felt when i walked across blackfriars bridge in the sunshine. it's about standing on the balcony of the national gallery looking down at trafalgar square. it's about marveling at every item in sainsbury's and laughing at weird flavors of potato chips we wouldn't be able to find in the USA. it's about standing on that spot on the globe stage and hearing my voice echo around me. it's about the triumphant satisfaction i felt the first time i squeezed onto the tube in the nick of time, and the first time i navigated my way inside king's cross without having to look at the signs. it's about the very first time i ordered a drink at a pub, the way i wanted to cry before the first act ended in les miserables, the way my feet were numb after running all the way to school in a skirt and flats, the way i could walk down the streets of london at night and feel totally safe, like i was home.