My Friends Never Die

 What I miss the most isn't chain smoking ciggies outside the club when the bar closes. Nor is it that sweet spot of the night when everyone is looking for someone to go home with and the air is filled with the energy of a middle school dance- anxious and longing to find someone to desire. I don't even miss the music they play at 6AM after the venue transforms into a haven for the serious ravers. All the graffitied walls and melted makeup and the smell of cigarettes and weed and drinks spilled in ecstasy will forever hold a special place in my heart, but they're not what I wish for when I think about what my life looks like after rehab. I know those dance parties will come again, and I'll dance even harder than I did before because I'll have something more than music to dance for. I'll dance for my new friends- the ones who are just figuring out what it feels like to move on solid ground. 

What I miss the most isn't something that has happened yet. It looks like laying on a blanket in the park with the Manhattan skyline in the background and Lane 8 playing on a speaker while I laugh at something someone I've known for years just told me. There are no nurses to tell us to quiet down, to not touch each other, to not share food. We can drink orange juice straight out the carton and no one cares because we're family. What's mine is yours, which makes it ours. I want sandwiches at 5AM when the night meds wore off and we're all watching scary movies and tickling each others backs and listening to Chet Faker. I don't want are you okay? I want one look to say it all. 

When I think about it too hard I start to get nauseous. All that time I spent watching Vanderpump Rules with the sound off while listening to some psytrance track I once heard at a party in Mumbai on repeat. All the time I spent waiting in a hospital, waiting for a diagnosis, waiting for the meds to kick in, waiting for a bed in the psych ward, in rehab, in your life to open up. I don't always get what I want but I do get a chance to wake up in the morning and that's better than what I had a week ago when I almost drove my car off a cliff. 

I used to ride my bike to the rave wearing nothing but a thong and a mesh crop top. I skipped the line to go straight to the bar. I danced because I didn't have anything better to do. I danced because I needed to release the energy I held onto when I was a child- frightened and self-pitying. It all happened so fast. I was dancing and moving and listening to music. Then came the break from reality, the suicidal thoughts, the hotel tabs and the maxed out credit cards. I needed dancing because the higher the BPM the more it matched the intense context of my life. I no longer wake up and wonder which party I'm going to. It's easier than ever to get out of bed in the mornings. The sooner I wake up, the sooner I get to hang out with my new gang. I put on Four Tet as I drink my coffee and pray for the girl I was a week ago. She was so tragically reckless and beautiful. She was so alone. 

Last night I laid in bed at 1AM, listening to soundcloud garbage and thinking of all the beautiful friends I met in the psych ward. One by one they say goodbye, one by one they move onto a world much bigger than the space we occupied when we were all sad, suicidal, and drugged up with meds we have no desire to buy on the street. I know in time we will go wherever we need to go. We will all move on from this. In 5 years time it will all be a blip on the radar, but we will never make it to tomorrow, to next week, to next year without each others help. I can't help worrying about them whenever one of them says goodbye. In a fucked up way, the day room talks and art room shenanigans are everything I have ever dreamed of. All my friends are together, we're safe, we're connected. We play uno and cry. We share memes and laugh. We talk about being abused and we make a plan to walk through a world where no one fucks with us anymore. Within these white walls, wearing hospital socks and hoodies, we created our own universe. Is this our earth? I wondered while we discussed what our next adventures would be. I worry that it isn't. I worry that once we leave we will never find another place that feels like home. That worry is beautiful. The fear reminds me that we built a foundation that is strong enough to foster genuine caring and affection. The world outside of here might not be ours, but the platonic love we all share is. No one can take that away from us. Not even the nurses. 

For almost a decade, the only person I cared about, the only person I ever worried about, was myself. With each goodbye, each new notification from our group chat popping up on my phone, I get the chance to lean on people until my legs grow strong enough to stand on my own. I take a breath. Let it go. With the sound of my new friends laughing in the background, I slip into sleep and rest with ease. Yes, this is our earth. The earth I will miss the most. This life is no longer mine. It's ours. That makes each day I spend worrying and each night I spend dancing worth it.