.: X_M i a__L y n a r - A e v a l i n_X:.
"If all their [deaths] brought to our school is {>sadness<}
then they will have died in [vain.]
But if, by passing on, they bring everyone in this {>school<}
closer together as a whole [family,]
as one group of {>friends<}
instead of several groups
...then they will have left a real [mark]"
-Mia Lynar-Aevalin, Internal Illness
"If all their [deaths] brought to our school is {>sadness<}
then they will have died in [vain.]
But if, by passing on, they bring everyone in this {>school<}
closer together as a whole [family,]
as one group of {>friends<}
instead of several groups
...then they will have left a real [mark]"
-Mia Lynar-Aevalin, Internal Illness
It's odd thinking that this is the last year here. My last year here. After this one there will be no more. No more setting fire to various classrooms, offices and people with the help of my co-conspirator, Eva. No more dealing with shadow-wolf teachers and their horrible mood swings--which means no more playing on those mood swings. No more midwinter parties in the staff room that we weren't invited to but attended anyways. No more teasing Riggs--
Gods. No more Riggs.
It's not something that is easy for me to comprehend. It's not something I really want to, actually. He's been there as long as I can remember; since I was eight, I think. Yes, that's when I met him. I never did beat him in a duel, and I probably never will. I suppose I won't have any more chances after this year. This year. One more year, then we're gone. One more year.
And after that, then what? I don't know where I'm going after that. I used to want to be part of the Guard back home. A captain, like Emil. But now? I love my sword, yes, but is that my life? Could i really be satisfied with just that for the rest of my life? Do I have to be?
This is the time in one's life when they attempt to sum up the entire of their being into one subject, one section, one word. It's preposterous. People aren't words. Moreover, they're definitely not one word. So why do we try to do that? Why am I sitting here in my room while Jeremy snores loudly away into her pillow, trying to divine just what it is that sums me up. Trying to choose between my hands or my feet, my right or my left, my soul or my body.
What's the answer? No, what's the question? Swordplay or magic? Steel or plant? Which path do I take? Which direction should I walk? Should I walk or run? Everyone says stop and smell the flowers, but what if there's no flowers to stop and smell, dammit?
And even if I do choose that, what happened to the rest of me? If I choose my hands over my feet, what about my nose? My eyes? My hair?
If I choose swordplay, what happened to my wolf-side? Does that merely become an aspect of my personality? Something that is me, but not me? And what of the mischief that I get into? Does that just stop abruptly once I'm out of school? Can it? I think not. That's me. All of it is; steel, plant, wolf and prank. It's me.
And even if I do answer these questions, there's more still. What of my friends? My father? I do hope I'm not stuck living with him forever, however much as I love him, but that doesn't mean I don't want to see him ever again. Does that mean I should stay close, or move far and just visit sometimes? And what of my friends? There's a whole pile of us here: Eva, Teague, Jason, Jeremy--even Demuur and Felix. Will we stay friends? Or will we part ways and have to make new friends? And if we do make new friends, does it matter? Will we be lesser people if we're not friends forever like we thoguht we would be?
I'm not sure about lesser, but I'm positive we'll be different--and not necessarily in the best way. Sometimes a gardener has to prune a tree--but one who trims branches too hastily end up with malformed trees. It's not something I'm looking forward to; how do you decide which branches should be cut? Wait for more branches to grow and choose the best ones to keep? Friendship put to the fullest test; survival of the fittest friend. So you cut some branches and grow new ones. What happens if you start to miss those branches after you've discarded them?
Sure, there's such thing as grafting, but there's problems with that. Ever noticed how once you've lost touch with someone there's no going back? You loved him three years ago when you last saw him, and you think you still do. But then you run into him or get some mail. You start talking again and it turns out he's not so great anymore. What changed? Who knows: you, him, the world, all of the above. Who cares. The point is once someone walks out that door they're gone. If you're not changing together then you're not going to like the change you see and the friendship is no more.
And that's what happens after graduation.
And you look back, twenty years later and think "I wonder what ever happened to Teague..." and so you call her up, or you call her father, because you remember where he lives--you'd gone there so many times, after all.
And you find out what ever became of Teague. And it's not at all what you expected, or she expected, or Eva expected. It's something different. And she's different. And you're different. And no matter how hard you try to get back in that god damned door it just won't budge. The room beyond is too full. She's got new friends to entertain, a new job, new dreams, maybe even a new family. And you weren't a part of that, so you can't understand it. You don't know why she wants to be a meteorologist instead of a pediatrician because you weren't there when that germ of a dream started. You don't know why she lives next door to her dad after trying so hard to get away from that life because you weren't there.
And you can't go back.
No matter how many times she tells you that her father was struck by lightening and has seen the error in his ways and would never ever put her in the bottom of the well again, you weren't there. You don't believe it; you're not buying it, and yet, you still can't see why she doesn't understand that you've decided to study with your father instead of join the town guard like you always dreamed.
And it can't grow back. You knocked on the door, but you're not on the party list. And even if you stand outside in the snow for two years you probably never will be. Even if she wants to put you back on that list, to share a drink, have some laughs, swap some stories, it's just not going to happen. Too much has happened in twenty years or two years or however long it's been since you last saw her. You'll never know how she transformed from a shy little catholic into a glamor queen. And it's not the sort of question you ask, so you don't. And you never know. And you never understand, because you weren't there.
Is that really how I want my life to be? A struggle to get my foot back in the damn door to the house of the friends I should have kept forever? Is it worth that? Is anything worth that?
You've been living with these people for five years. Five years. And you're just going to drop it? You're not even going to look back? Maybe, then, you won't even get to the "what ever happened to Mia" stage. Maybe you'll just drop us and never look back, and we'll never hear from you again--not until we read your name in the obituary some rainy morning 70 years later.
And you'd prefer that?
That your old school friends find out you died from the newspaper? Hell, we don't even know how you died. Maybe we'll find out, some day, before we die. Maybe you died snorkeling--but we'll never know why you were snorkeling. We'll probably never know anything more about you than you died snorkeling.
How anti-climactic is that? Snorkeling? I thought you wanted to be assassinated by a ninja or something. So how did it come to this? Why were you snorkeling? Who were you snorkeling with? And what ever did become of you?
They're common questions, trivial ones, even. But they'll haunt us for the rest of our lives. We'll never know anything about you except what you were in that school.
And we'll never know.
Because you didn't care enough to keep the door open.
