Thursday, April 19, 2012

One Day

     One day, I'll know why the things are happening the way they are.  I'll hear how music was supposed to sound.  I'll see colors for numbers.  I'll understand the words from someone's heart.  I'll get to hug and kiss the person I fell in love with, just because I can.  I'll get to tell a new life that I love them till the day I die.  I'll get to taste words, see the product of my imagination, and hear young dreamers chant their inspirations as they move forward to their own identity.

     Sometimes you get a conviction to write - after a great conversation, a thoughtful moment during a cup of coffee or a pot of tea, after reading an amazing quote, after reading someone's blog/post/note, while listening to a certain song, etc.  And when you open up a blank page to spill your thoughts, everything seems to spill the wrong way...  or is it wrong?  I've been wanting to write a post about different issues, subjects, and/or events, and every time I opened up my page to write, I feel a stronger conviction not to.  And I think it's because I've been having several thoughts interwoven in such a way that expressing it in a word-vomit style would not be appropriate. 


     Last year one of my best friends, Jason, had a sudden collapsing of his right lung.  He had 4 operations in total and is finally out of the hospital and recovering at home.  He is graduating UCLA with a summa cum laude, got invited to the prestigious phi beta kappa honor society, he is integrated with various parts of campus clubs and activities, and many fellow bruins who know him through kcm, ccm, etc. look up to him.  When he collapsed for the second time and was in the hospital bed, it was the first time I thought, "oh man, a friend of mine is going to die."  And not just anyone, but one of two friends that I grew up with since 5th grade.  I remember celebrating his birthdays at his old house above valley view elementary school.  I remember when his sister made bomb-ass food for us.  I remember when he had yellow highlights on his bangs, and when he went through his "gangster" phase and wrote a chain necklace and heavy Rocawear jean shorts and vest.  I remember when we would go over to our other best friend, Daniel's house and play video games.  I remember his mom.

     I'm glad he's alright.  But he won't ever be the same as he was before physically.  Many of his future goals shifted.  His life is forever changed.  And through him, my life has changed.

One day, I'll know why the things happened the way they did.

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