Words Defect

Words fall short of all of the odes I wish to dedicate to Veronica. I think that, like me, many of you have an endless bank of memories with Veronica that you cherish, and yet to demand them into the forms of words and sensible syntax suddenly renders them insignificant or fleeting. If only there was a way to relate into the air--outside of ourselves--the true essence of what these memories are: the emotional high, pull of muscles in a smile, the related inside jokes, and responses... but maybe that is what makes memories all the more precious. They are something that, no matter how hard you try to relate it to others, it is an intimate reality that belongs to only you and the individuals with which it was shared.

Every day I remember anew a memory I hadn't thought of in such a long while. The one and only time before I moved that I spent the night at Veronica's house. How she'd deliberately mess up any given Moulin Rouge song so that embarrassment of bad notes would not ensue. Fake-crying for a whole 20 minutes or so while amusing Verny and Lori with an improvised character. The countless times we walked along State Street and men tried to pick us up... hahaha.

It is humbling to know that of all people in the world, and decidedly awesome Veronica found me to be a special friend--one that she could confide in, laugh with, and just genuinely feel comfortable with when everything else seemed awry.

And I wonder about my life, the one that will never be the same because of the consciousness in knowing Veronica. I wonder if she is going to watch me grow, and what sort of impression that has on her. Will she grow with me? Will she be influenced by my situations? Or will she only go so far as she lived? I will always relate to her, but will I reach a point in my life in which she can no longer relate to me?

Whatever the case, I'm certain that no amount of growth will ever rule out the personality effects I've contracted in knowing Veronica. I'm afraid it's terminal...and I couldn't be happier about it.