Bookmark #112

Remember the band we used to listen to together? I remember we couldn’t decide on our favourite song from them. We couldn’t agree, and yet, not dislike the other song as much. I remember that soft argument, years ago.

Well, I’m here now – in the crowd – listening to them. I’m surrounded by strangers, squeezed in together. I’m surrounded by my friends, too. There’s just this massive group of people, swaying, misremembering the lyrics, mumbling, not singing, laughing, smiling, and just being happy, and very drunk.

Oh, they just played your song, and that’s what made me think of you, and how you’re not here, and how it’s been a while, and how I’d stopped counting after the first few months. It’s been a while, though, I’m sure.

Anyway, I couldn’t listen to the music without being distracted by the thought and the face of you, so I decided I’ll bullshit myself long enough for their gig to end. I decided I’ll believe you’re in this crowd somewhere. You could be anyone. You could be the face I can see far away between an array of silhouettes, or the person standing right behind me or standing somewhere close by but far enough.

I decided I’ll believe that because I’ve forgotten how you looked anyway. I’ve forgotten a lot of things. I like to think that, at least. Yet, there’s the song and the memory of arguing playfully. I can’t bullshit around that, I guess.

That’s what I learned in the crowd, listening to the band we used to listen to together in your car. I learned there’s no bullshitting around some things in life. I learned there’s no bullshitting around the moments when you felt pure happiness; even if they’ve passed.