How I Learned to Stop Worrying

I've been trying to put together a bit of the past for everyone to enjoy. It mainly starts with Sylvia.

She grew up in Grosvenor Dale with her mom, Lisa, and an array of would-be surrogate fathers. One result of her awkward home life was the amount of time she spent outside, trodding through the woods. Her first camera was the gift of one of her mother's suitors. In retrospect, I wonder if he bought it to get her out of the house even more. Even so, Sylvia was homeschooled too, and didn't know many of the local kids. When we first met, she talked about a girl that lived down the road from her, although I've never met her and I'm not sure she ever existed.

Our moms are got to talking when buying the same thing at an art supply store, or, that's how they tell it. Lisa brought Sylvia over when we were about ten. I remember watching City of Lost Children with her and talking about various secret places in the woods, and various theories on some unexplained phenomenae: a mound in the middle of the woods was a deer-fort; the field surrounded by forest was an alien landing site; the foundation of a mill on a stream was a man-made waterfall and likely installed to help the people of the area sleep better at night to the soothing sounds of... falling water. It was a couple years before we got to hang out again, and only after we insisted to our parents to do so.

There were a lot of good times. She was really sort of crazy back then. I wasn't sure I liked that, but I was really impressed with how she knew a lot of interesting stories and would sing songs to herself at the right moments. I learned later that a lot of her stories were invented, the product of a combination of reading a lot and having a boring life in comparison to what she read. We'd go hang out in the loft of my dad's work shed a lot, sometimes watching him work and sometimes Sylvia would tell him a story about Jacques Cousteau. Dad would correct her on some mundane detail and Sylvia would pretend to write it down.

Our parents never said we weren't allowed to date, but on my thirteenth birthday I was sort of told that Sylvia was a nice girl and was welcome any time, but that it would be nice if they got to see her when she was over, instead of disappearing as we often did. It was kind of too late at that point.

The last couple of years our moms have spent more time together than ever, although Sylvia didn't always come along. Lisa has been "taking a break from men" for awhile, and my dad was working a lot at the power plant. When she did come over, sometimes it was awkward for the two of us, because we felt guilty about going off to the woods or the loft because now, whether or not we were making out (i think once we didn't), we'd likely get some parental sass. I still call Sylvia my girlfriend, though, and only now do my parents acknowledge our love's legitimacy. Maybe just to try to make me feel better.

The last six months were really great. We watched Life Aquatic and Royal Tenenbaums about a million times, taking notes with Sylvia crying every time at the end of the former. I finally convinced her to sing with me on some songs, and begged her to play some violin to my guitar, but she was still too shy about it. I don't know...

The first day she was sick we were supposed to hang out. I thought she was sort of blowing me off, but when I saw her I knew she wasn't pretending.

The rest of the stuff I don't think I can really talk about right now. For a couple weeks I didn't really do anything. It was a like a fucked up nightmare trying to do anything - how do you replace or even pretend to heal after such a perfect girl comes around?

Today has been difficult. I woke up thinking about the ending of Science of Sleep, and Sylvia, and how fucked up it all has been.