A Laurie is a Terrible Thing to Waste.

I had a fairly introspective Monday, so sorry, you're going to have to deal with a weirdly introspective post today. I try to make it a rule not to dwell that much on my personal life, but as you will see, this situation may call for it.

I had some of greatest friends visit me this weekend, and I left Sunday feeling dearly loved....and dearly missing New York City. I'll try to explain how I feel, but only a handful of those unlucky/lucky enough to experience it may truly understand.  Now, imagine you've found the love your life, then it relentlessly thrashes you until you think you couldn't possibly love it anymore. And so during one week where it doesn't seem worth it anymore, you leave, and the moment your foot hits its first step out of the five boroughs you regret it. You wonder what magic mushrooms you bought on MacDougal to ever feel this way, and what were you thinking, leaving the one place it had ever felt right, even though it hurt so much.

So add these feelings mixed with a pinch of Christian Bale from a glorious Sunday night showing of The Dark Knight Rises, and you've got my favorite movie of all time, the 1994 rendition of Little Women. (Mad fangirl moment here, but I was an English major, so deal, motherfucker, deal.)


Even though I can never forgive Laurie for marrying Amy (easily the most insufferable Amy in literature), I understand why he did it. Jo and Laurie were best friends, complete equals to each other, and so utterly comfortable with one another. I'm of the idea that you need a partner to push you, to help you see things in ways you couldn't before, even if you disagree with them. I understand Jo's decision, and would make it myself (I mean, if it wasn't Christian Bale asking me to marry him. I don't even want to be married, and I would marry Bale's Laurie. As long as he didn't have that godforsaken goatee.). But goddamn, watching Laurie and Amy together is like watching a cat play with a mouse. It's unnatural, people.

Theodore Laurence was haughty, tempestuous, fun, and slightly too concerned what other people thought about him (or didn't think, I feel it works both ways). But he was lovely, and kind, even when he didn't seem it. And even though Jo had her sisters, she still needed a Laurie. An equal in all accounts, no matter what.

I had a Laurie once, and I mean it when I say a Laurie is a terrible thing to waste. To have that friend that understands even when you don't speak so many words, or watches over you when you're far away. You don't realize how special a friendship is in the middle of it, and I fear that all understandings of friendships is retrospective. You finally see it when it's gone; deciphering the smoke from a blown-out candle.

Please don't think my life is as interesting as Jo March's; there was no refused proposal, or anything of the sort. Our demise was a mutual loss of respect, for bad decisions on both ends that I can't be sure he regrets, but that I certainly do.

I've come to realize my life in New York has resembled the friendship with my Laurie. He was my greatest friend, but he didn't treat me well. So when it came crashing down, I didn't treat him very well either. I was so ready to throw it all away, because I felt that's what I deserved. The regret didn't wash over me immediately, but slowly ebbed out of my pores for years, until one day I found myself drowning it in. I tried to move on, find a new Laurie, but it just doesn't work that way. Some have come close, and some have become my very great friends. But it's never really enough, and it's not their fault, because one can't compete with a lingering smoke that only I can still see is there, ever so faintly.

This is where I offer you advice that I don't take myself. But trust me, listen: If you don't feel like you're being treated how you deserve, it isn't stronger to run away. The strongest action is to work through it, to push one another and change it. Stop resting on your laurels, because you will reach a point where the relationship isn't great anymore. A great partnership always has the two participants pushing one another. Not all partners have to be romantic, and the best aren't. I ran away, thinking I was acting superior when I was really acting stupid, but like friendships, rash decisions are only seen as stupid retrospectively. So I'm here now, wondering why I ever left the place that felt so right, even though it hurt so much at the time.

But time heals things, eventually. And if you feel it doesn't, then just learn from it. Learning is greatest trick the human race has accomplished. Second is forgiveness, especially towards oneself.

Completely unrelated to anything above, here's my favorite Little Women quote, from the novel, slightly relegated to the back of this post.  Spoken by Jo, "I want to do something splendid before I go into my castle, something heroic or wonderful that won't be forgotten after I'm dead. I don't know what, but I'm on the watch for it, and mean to astonish you all some day."


Alright, I guess that's done. That felt a little weird. I don't normally stick these things outside of a journal, but they must be known, I suppose.