Have been working non-stop ever since I got here and finally got a break on Monday. A colleague brought eight of us to this mountain outside of Queensbury, called Sleeping Beauty (yeaaahhhh). We climbed the damn steep slope up for like half an hour, and my wonderfully white addidas track shoes are now muddied and brown. I kinda like it like this. It looks rugged. Hehe. Once we reached the top though, all that exercising was so worth it. The view! Oh my gosh. Where do I begin? It was ASTONISHING. I felt like I was on top of the world. Well, I think I literally was. Haha. I could see the sky stretch all around me and continue for miles and miles. And the air was so clean and the wind just wrapped my face and grabbed my whole body in the tightest embrace I’m ever going to have. I felt as if I was going to fly away! Ahhhhh it was lovely, lovely, lovely. I felt so insignificant. In a good way. How can anyone deny god when so much beauty lies before them? Just, lies there, sits there, waiting for the grime to be peeled away by the attentive eye. It was charmingly perfect in every single way, too faultless to have been a purposeless accident. (Do not spoil this for me all you atheists. You know who you are. If I am stupid, I am one happy fool. Hahahaha.) I stood right at the edge of the cliff and looked down at the mountains and the trees and the lake, sheltered by shadows of clouds. I smiled right back at the world.
We also went to some deserted waterfall where a bunch of guys were drinking beer right at the very top where the water comes gushing down. Crazy. It was really high where they were sitting! I have no idea how they even managed to get there. I took a picture and they waved to me hysterically while I did that so now I have this tiny little portion of my photo filled with a bunch of ants raising their arms upwards. Haha. Will post all the pictures up soon!
We had dinner at the house of this security guard, Kai (Swedish), we know from work. He’s a really nice guy, 28 years old, training to be a police officer. He cooked pasta for us with two different sauces and meatballs. After that he made like a dozen different drinks! Sherry, whisky, vodka, wine… He was just mixing them all up in this small metal bottle bartenders always have. I got so fucking drunk I couldn’t even walk properly, just stumbling and slurring insistently, “I’m okay. I’m okay.” Thank god he sent us all back to our motel. I was so high and giddy. My brain felt so drugged and shrouded in a thick smear of light. My room mates had to hold me and they kept laughing at how clumsy I was. I didn’t even take my socks or shoes off once I reached my room. Just crashed right into bed and slept like a pig. Woke up an hour later and rushed to the toilet where I vomited into the sink god knows how many times. The stench of regurgitated spaghetti sauce was unbearably revolting. Crap lar. I’m never going to eat pasta the same way again! And if you know me, you would know how much I adore pasta. Lol. I practically stayed inside the toilet the whole night, my stomach twisting, my hands gripping nothingness, fingers curled. I was crying and throwing my insides out while everyone else slept soundly away. I could catch fleeting glances of my ghostly self in the filthily speckled mirror. I looked like a disgustingly pathetic train wreck.
It feels so so great and fun to drink with friends. You can just sit back and unwind and somehow, the lips get a little loose and everyone lightens up and opens up. There’s a good deal of liberty and candour in the conversations that happen. It feels very real and sincere, in a strange way, considering how we have to intoxicate ourselves in order to simply step across the line of social restrictions. Well that, and then there’s the lame and pornographic jokes half-shouted in a jumble of broken languages, secrets spilled, gossips exchanged and drinking games and dares that leave your face flustered red. The camaraderie is amazing.
But I’m not really sure if the after effects are worth it. The high is so breathtakingly high that the low clutches your hair ruthlessly and forces your head down burning cold water. You sink like a stone. It’s like suffocating inside a coffin buried underground. Why do we do this to ourselves?? We want so much to reach the utmost peak of ecstasy that we are a split second away from crumbling. We do everything in our power to feel that electrifying pulse, to be precariously, alive.
I’m learning a lot. I know I’m not perfect and I’m working on it- understanding who I am, loving this body, this life, this shot at redemption. Believe me when I say this is a perpetual uphill battle. I am grateful for hardships, for loneliness, for unspoken truths and intensely brutal, violently throbbing sensations. I am thankful for friends (who are completely extraordinary), for family (and all the shit I’ve put you through), for grace, love, acceptance and seemingly unending forgiveness.
If you are reading this, I hope you know that you are not alone. I know I keep saying this but I truly mean it. Don't give up. You are not the only one struggling. We are all in this together, every one of us. We can help each other. We can make it work.
One day, you will realize that you are worthy and lovable. Your flaws, your mistakes, your scars, your fragility, make you even more beautiful.
I'm waiting for that day. (: