A constant, unseen battle is happening all the time in people. Or at least it is in me.
I'm sure that I think about it more often than others do; I feel as if I'm always on the edge of losing something precious. I'm holding onto everyone close to me and trying to keep special moments frozen in time. But time, and those people you spend it with, it feels like your favorite Popsicle on a summer's day. Something you value so much for the moment, and something you feel like you need, but it's already melting in front of your face never to retain the same shape it came in - in that pretty plastic cover. So I enjoy it quick, because it will be gone soon anyways. What if I'm not the one who sees friendships that way, but that's the way that they often are? Sometimes it seems that we use each other for the moment and for the purpose the relationship satisfies: we work together, so might as well be friends. We go to school together, so for now I'll be close to you while we are in the same classes. Does everyone feel the same dark loss when someone close moves on because that convenience no longer exists? Of course, there exists the relationship of an acquaintance which is really what this idea of friends of convenience makes the most sense, but that's not what we're talking about here. I'm talking about someone you declare a friend, which to me is defined as someone special to you. The group I found in my last years of college was unlike anything I was ever able to enjoy before. We were a mess, but a loving mess. In my mind, we were creating something that possibly had no end. There were daydreams and drunk talk of next vacations together, or our future children meeting each other in the summer when we would all rent a boat house together (or something like that - I did mention that they were drunk talks). I'm not really sure why or when the cracks started, but to me it felt very painful. It wasn't a pain I experienced all at once, either. One friend decided to move on and stop communicating with us all, soon others followed either out of conviction or of the convenience of moving somewhere new. It wasn't until some of these past friendships turned to hate that I felt the most forlorn and confused. Surely I was missing something. How could we be adults and yet not be stable in our relationships and know who our friends really are? The sad truth is now I see it all the time in the professional world as well. It's actually not something we gain as adults, the ability to treasure friends. I think that it's something that we lose. I admittedly live in a very optimistic world where everyone should just get over their problems and troubles because tomorrow is new day - why waste it! But the downside of this, is my childlike expectations are not rooted in reality and I see it more everyday. And to those who have engaged in a friendship with me at any point, I won't deny that if you and I were really friends beyond just that of the social media sort, I valued you dearly. My heart is torn by every loss and rebuilt by every kind phone call, visit or message from those who value our time together. From a nihilist perspective one could say - "why does it matter?" but to me the idea that we just have our lives for what they are and this one opportunity to spend time and bring happiness and endearment to each other makes these relationships even more wondrous.
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I have a quirk that has been a feature of mine since a young age: I always find myself connecting with people on airplanes.
The story I derive this from is one my dad retells often. Apparently, when I was around three or four and on an airplane with my parents, I saw another kid my age as everyone was getting their carry-on luggage from the overhead bins and were on the way out of the plane. I yelled a "hello" at him and asked his name. I told him the hotel that we would be staying at too (just in case he wanted to play!) and my dad yelled out "And our social security number is..." and the whole plane had a laugh. I expected that "talent" of mine to disappear with age, but apparently not. I find myself making friends with quite a diverse number of people during flights these days, which I now take often for work. There's Victor from Austin, who shares a love of Lord of the Rings with me. There's Barb, the retired police officer from North Carolina who has more stories than you can count, and most of them sad. There's Jared from Minneapolis, who showed me every special moment that he's had with his fiance and his dog from all the photos on his phone. There's Chip-e who is a euro-pop DJ and is on his way back to Chicago to see his son in the hospital. There's Asad, who is from Tanzania and used to live on a farm but now lives in Dallas and has a strange pride for his city. Then, there's someone I met last week who I can't remember his name, but I can remember his story very clearly. He was getting his MBA in Hawaii and was doing competitive cheer-leading. While he was in school and doing cheer, he found himself found of another cheerleader. When he graduated, and she had a break, he moved to Beaumont, TX and stayed with her, growing even fonder. When she had to go back to Hawaii for school, he had a choice: he could go back, and spend time doing a bit of nothing while she finished her degree, or he could move back to Pittsburgh and get a job. He did the latter. He worked hard and met other people, as eventually the long-distance relationship that he tried to keep with her just couldn't go on; the time difference and the distance was just too far. Soon, he found that he had accidentally gotten another girl pregnant. He decided that he would marry her. However, on the night before his wedding, he called that girl from Beaumont and spoke with her for hours (he told me around eight). I asked him if she tried to get him to come back and cancel the wedding. He responded that he was the one who told her: "Call me before 10 am tomorrow. If you do, I'll cancel the wedding and fly to you", and his best man had a credit card ready to go, should she call. I asked anxiously, "What happened?! Did she call??? I guess not...". He said...she did, but she called too late. She called three hours too late; she had fallen asleep. Later, that woman would go onto to ruin their relationship after having three kids with him, and he would meet his current wife while at a bar, trying to forget his ex. I asked him, what about the girl from before? He told me that he saw her a year ago, at an airport. However, he didn't talk to her, because he knew he would leave whoever he was with to be with her again. I wondered if he really still loved her. I also wondered if she was the one he should've been with. I've always felt that people should come before jobs, and this proved it to me further. At least he would know, if she really was the one. I told him that he should write about it.. like a song, or poem, or something. He said it wasn't his strong suite. It might not be mine, either, but I had to write it out. It was a sad, self-fulfilling prophecy. Who knows what kind of flight stories I'll hear next. I wonder... Showers are nice.
They always provide some kind of illusion that everything can be avoided if you just stay in there long enough. That somehow, adding a dime-sized amount of shampoo can wash away your dilemmas. Showers also make you think that you're deep... because while you're in them, you kind of are. Or at least I am, since I need to get the drain unclogged. All jokes aside, though, never underestimate the epiphanies you get while showering. I'm convinced the best ideas have come from them. Today in mine, I didn't have an epiphany but more of a crises. My other half has gone away, to the other half of the world. This prompted the question, have I ever actually spent an entire week living by myself? Maybe that's impressive or some would say (some being my husband, most likely) that it's sad. He would say that because he believes that knowing who you are when you're alone is important. I've never known how to feel about the subject, so I generally try to avoid it. I think that I feel conflicted when I'm alone. Not just living alone, but just generally being by myself. I have the strange sensation of wanting to lay there and do nothing, waiting almost like a machine for another human to come by and press an "on" button to wake me up, and wanting to produce any amount of creative byproducts of my boredom and perplexed emotions. Several thoughts came to me in the shower: 1) It's too quiet. I should go do some work at a coffee shop... around other people. 2) Maybe I should play guitar. It's too quiet. I'm starting to feel sad. 3) It's too quiet. Or more of one thought, I guess. I decided to start writing. This is my first post. I used to have a blog before I met my husband. Of course, it's long gone lost in the deep rubble of Myspace, so I'd rather not try to find it and I most definitely have no interest in reading my 9th grade struggles. I also had a journal, that stopped being touched shortly after and I started dating my husband. I look at it sometimes and feel guilty like its some kind of animal that I never got around to feeding and as a result its either dead or it hates me. I don't know why I stopped writing. I wonder if it's because I stopped having a need to express my thoughts since I had someone who would just listen to them unconditionally? Maybe my style of creativity thrives only when I'm feeling lonely so I hold onto a medium like music or writing like a crutch to keep me interested in the world... |
To myself: No promises that this won't cease to be a priority after two days.
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