Winter, a reflection/Pretty in Pink (Partially music)

 Have you ever considered the lyrics to Pretty in Pink? Here they are if you haven't.

Caroline laughs, and it's raining all day
Loves to be one of the girls
She lives in the place in the side of our lives
Where nothing is ever put straight

She turns herself 'round
And she smiles and she says
"This is it, that's the end of the joke"
And loses herself in her
Dreaming and sleep, and her
Lovers walk through in their coats

Pretty in pink, isn't she?
Pretty in pink, isn't she?

All of her lovers all
Talk of her notes and the
Flowers that they never sent
And wasn't she easy
Isn't she pretty in pink?

The one who insists he was
First in the line is the
Last to remember her name
He's walking around in this
Dress that she wore
She is gone, but the
Joke's the same

Pretty in pink, isn't she?
Pretty in pink, isn't she?

Caroline talks to you
Softly sometimes, she says,
"I love you" and "Too much"
She doesn't have anything
You want to steal
Well, nothing you can touch

She waves
She buttons your shirt
The traffic is waiting outside
She hands you this coat
She give you her clothes
These cars collide

Pretty in pink, isn't she?
Pretty in pink, isn't she?

I feel this. I've always felt easy to leave. I've always felt like I live just to the side of other people's lives, not really a part of anything. I know I can be seen as cold and distant, but I love too easily, so I stay away. I'm not sure anyone really knows me, which is my fault. The people who knew me best are gone, and I don't meet new people easily. The person who knows me best, currently, the most attached I am to anyone, is...complicated, to say the least. I've lost quite a few people throughout the quarantine, most have walked away. I get it. It's fine, mostly. I do care. I just don't know how to change it. A couple have died. A friend from Atlanta left this world. Maybe friend is too strong of a word? I helped move a washing machine for her once. She was friends with my ex for many years. She always smiled and hugged me. She used to grab my face and look into my eyes and tell me I was beautiful. I was warned about her when I first moved there. Drama, constant drama, she lies, she's untrustworthy, she just wants attention, attention, attention. She'll never "have it together." Many people doubted how sick she was before she died. I hadn't talked to her in a while, the last time I saw her she was neither sober nor exactly...clean. I hugged her just the same. She looked in my eyes, holding my face, and told me I was beautiful, and kissed me on the lips. Once upon a time, she organized events in Atlanta. Love her or hate her, almost everyone knew her, in certain scenes. She never caused me any drama, but her passing has made me think, very hard, about how I'll be remembered, and it makes me very sad. I think I'll mostly be remembered as whining about a broken heart or stumbling drunk in a dark bar. I don't even drink often. Only in bars. Makes me hurt (physically) less so I can dance more. But I know that's how people see me. I'm more than that, I promise. I wish I could say I've had a positive impact on anyone, but I don't think I have. I'm not particularly good at anything useful. I like making things, but they are generally mediocre at best. I live in the space at the side of your life, where nothing is ever put straight.

I wish I had kept in touch with her better. I know she found some happiness in the last few years. I wish I could tell her that I smile when I picture her face, so much closer to mine than I usually let people get. 

I hope you smile when you think of me. I hope I made you feel beautiful, even for a moment. 

* This isn't a goodbye, it's a reflection. I don't know how I feel right now. Re starting or starting psychiatric meds, there's always and adjustment period when you sometimes get worse, before the benefits start. Going through an emotional time while two weeks in is confusing. I don't know what feelings are real. I'm not sure that I am real. I'm a mostly rational crazy person. 

End of the night dancing with her memory song. Not a memory unique to me, by any means.