this dream I had once

You know one of those moments when you're like, 30, and you realize your life is half over?

Well, this isn't one of those stories. I didn't have the luxury of a mid-life crisis.

How do you explain to someone what I've been through?

To describe it would define insanity. But maybe I'm ready to pick the flowers off of the wallpaper. Maybe I am crazy.

I don't really know.
Maybe one day, I'll wake up, and this will all make some sense.
I don't really know. All I do know is when it happened, I was probably as lost as you are.

******
"Are you ready?"
"For, what?"
She had camera in hand, posed and anxious. "Let's get a picture before things get too crazy." (Ah, a foreshadowing.)
She grabbed onto my shoulder, pulled me in close, and snapped away.

What was this picture, anyway? What possible meaning did it have? Would she put it in a sturdy frame, and stare at it every day? Not likely. With my luck, I'd wind up at the bottom of a moving box, tucked among broken seashells and dead bugs. That is, if she were the type to let bugs crawl into moving boxes. She's probably not.

"Can you believe we're graduating?!" she screeched, sounding like tires skidding. I shook my head "no."

What is it about special days that make people want to talk to others they've never said more than a couple of words to? I mean, what's the point? I don't expect us to sing songs together, holding hands and smiling. I get it. Perhaps since we've had classes together, she feels the need to acknowledge me. Or maybe it's because I'll be right behind her when she accepts her diploma, and she wants to be in good company with the one person who could possibly save her from an embarassing situation like tripping.

Realizing I'm not going to provide much conversation, she steps out of line to talk to her other friends. And then I realize: I was simply a filler in a moment of awkwardness. That pretty much sums up my life. I know that now her friends are here, she won't say anything else to me. That's ok. If the line moves forward, I won't tell her.
I sigh, knowing I will.

What I'm really doing in all of this is looking for *nameunknown*. He (not sure if it will be a he or a she yet, but right now, calling it a he) is basically one of the only good friends I made here. Sure, there are others--the ones you have intimate conversations with in the photo house. The problem is, these people don't remember you the next day. Maybe it's convienient amnesia, because seeing you exposed in the daylight makes those conversations hard to follow. There's something about developing film in the dark with strangers that makes any conversation acceptable, and, even the most quiet of people a bit chatty.

But no, *nameunknown* is a true friend. A best friend. He is the exact opposite of me. Creative, witty, brilliant. Those three come to mind, and I wasn't even searching for words.