gwensarah and johanny
I look to see where loss had ran
22:42 & 01 September 2002

I fly so high
Then fall so low
Signs of love (I fly so high)
Away we could run (then fall so low)
I can see the light come peering through the sky in my mind
Closing people come in but also lying on the floor
I would hold you in my arms until we both are home
I would hold you in my arms until we both are all alone..-Moby

Ten days. Ten days is all that lies between me and a memory of a sunlit morning made black by despair and choking smoke. My thoughts drift towards the others; towards a brave girl who still sleeps somewhere in Manhattan trying to pick up the pieces for both herself and those she loves, towards the children born in the aftermath, towards lovers left behind who still reach out in the still of the night only to find an empty space where once the other half of them lay in slumber.

It's easy for me to force images somewhere deep inside me, after all I don't have to walk those streets, I am not there to suddenly find myself helplessly gazing towards a torn apart skyline. I am not there to unconsciously be expecting to see someone who I won't again. Ten days. There will be words spoken, sights replayed, horror relived. How is it that one year can seem only to have lasted days and yet been fraught with enough heartache to have seemed lifetimes.

*******************************

All day Will's words haunted me. "You don't have a friend like that do you? To whom you can pour out all those thoughts and secrets of the heart? No matter how silly they may seem to you?" how does one explain that no matter how strong the longing is there is always a fear that ties in with it? How does one explain that after a lifetime of betrayal and hurt that the trusting is as rare as the likelihood of finding such a friend like that again? His words took me back years, to the frightened yet strangely hopeful girl I was at fourteen..the fateful day when D. took me under his wing and gave to me the gifts of music and unconditional love. D. introduced me to a world of laughter, odd friendships, drunken kisses at train stations filled with the youthful certainty that there was no greater joy than that moment, and above all the music played and played. Driving our voices lilting and perhaps slightly off key, in B.s flat on a summer night, in the rain the songs warmed our hearts as we ran through the fields towards hot tea and a welcoming fire, music peppered our breakups, it made us feel like falling in love.

I used to steal softly into his room sometimes, we'd lie awake in his bed listening to Billie Holiday or Another Sunny Day talking and talking until dawn settled in lighting the room from gray to brilliant blue. It was to him that I confided all my girlish dreams, all of my childhood scrapes, all the corners of my soul. Sometimes we wouldn't talk at all, but instead lie together letting the music invade our senses..knowing that sometimes the best comfort isn't words at all but being able to simply rest with another.

As a group goes, there were those who came and went in those colourful Sarah* days..as we each paired off or with one another, the only thing certain was that at the end of the day it was the friendships and music that mattered. Unrequited love, dramatic breakups, stormy reunions..the music captured it all.

Sadly, times come to an end. Mine did when I was forced to return to a life that was cold and indifferent to me, I cried a little that day and died a bit inside knowing that memories of being cherished would be all I would have to sustain me in the darker days ahead. Letters and tape swaps made me remember that somewhere I had belonged. Visits and phone calls tried to capture the essence of those late night talks huddled under blankets.

I met Rymer roughly around the same time I had met D. never knowing that while I was the glue that settled their friendship there was also unspoken jealousy as each one begrudged the other his place in my heart. I think after Rymer was killed D. would have honoured his last promise by taking me back with him had I not bolted completely.
That summer flight from my old world were the first steps I unknowingly took towards the keening sense of isolation I still feel now.
New faces, new experiences as I tried to outrun a ghost. With it came the straining of a friendship years in the making. He couldn't understand my running anymore than I could understand his resentment of it.

I found out eventually. I understand too well now.

My problem is that I can never see the forest for the trees. I never see that to someone somewhere perhaps I am a golden star burning too brightly. I can never see because it is so opposite of the majority of imprints left in my heart.

Not being treated as someone who matters through my formitive years left it's scars on my already battered soul, being sent away, while giving me the gift of belonging even if accidently, wreaked havoc on my ability to accept that I matter to more than just myself.

When D. took his own life I lost more than just my best friend, I lost my mirror into another way of thinking. I lost my last link to a time where I was loved just as I am, I lost the companion who still walks in my dreams. The one who I could tell anything to, who could read my thoughts simply by watching the play of expression upon my face.

No Will, I don't have a friend like that. A friend to whom I can pour out everything I am thinking whether it be sunny or dark in my heart. Not anymore and I'm no longer sure if I'd be able to recognise such a friend again no matter how much my soul longs for such a friendship.

Trust was never in plentiful supply before and the years since have been fraught with darkness..I've known what it is to love with all of my heart then have that love used against me. I've known that there are few that truly cares to hear my thoughts and that some will simply pretend to for reasons still beyond my understanding. I have known what is is to have all hope shattered and be left broken, clinging to a dimming wish for some sign to keep a fragile faith intact.

If I could but have one wish. It would be for days like those again, of laughter and music. Of belonging. Or sharing teasing jests with those who adore me as much as I do them. Of the feeling of going home. Of being loved, just as I am.

I cried at Will's question, and quickly feared that admitting the truth would make me seem pathetic. Me, who was never pathetic to Rymer, D, or the rest of the group of wayward companions we were then. I cried and admitted the truth to myself, of how alone I truly am now and how alone I fear I always will be.

Listening: "18"-Moby

*Sarah refers to the now defunct Sarah Records who's heyday was 1988-1995, while the end of my time of Sarah Nights was more 1991-1992..the rest of the gang's story is still very much entwined with that of the label.

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