different: a eulogy

I fell asleep holding hands with silence more than once, and it always unsettled me.

Now I listen to soft piano music as I sleep and pretend that a young man with dreamy eyes who is in love with a gorgeous optimist with tiny feet and long blond hair is playing it for me. Because I'm in love with him and I don't think he could ever really be in love with me.

Just like the rest of you.

See, we're all just screwed up teenagers with screwed up lives, counting days we've been alive and some of us can count days till we die or days we'll wait for him or days till our future really begins or something just as sickeningly motivational as that. And we're all writing blogs with titles like "My Thoughts" or "Things No One Hears" or "Inner Voice" or something. And though we're different, we're following this same pattern of obsession. Over trying to be different.

Is it just me, or is it everyone who steps back and looks at life and pretentious as it may be thinks, "well, we humans are all a bunch of sillies."

I mean. In Washington, the liberals and conservatives are worried about each other, and on Wall Street everyone's worried about money, and radical scientists are worried about aliens and some people are worried about surviving today. Parents are worried about teenagers and teenagers are worried about safe sex. And some less selfish teenagers are worried about offending people. (Sorry, by the way, if I offend you.) I'm worried that while I'm away, people talk.

And when you think about it, if life was just an accident, it's just silly to worry. In the long run, it won't matter. And if there is a God, it's even sillier, because a being who could orchestrate beautiful and magnificent stars to appear in the sky, big flaming balls of gas that the world oohs and aahs over all summer long, except if you live in New York and can't see any of them, but anyway, if that same God that made stars made you and I, then he can definitely fix our trouble spots.

Maybe this didn't make sense, but neither does trying to be different, is my point.

Because last time I checked my faith, it told me that God made us that way.