Posts tagged souvenirs

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Careening. That’s what we are doing. Racing to end this year off in some spectularly unique way. Determined to convince ourselves that we are better.

Brighter. 

More beautiful than we were last year.

And I wonder if we are.

I started this blog with the intention to ramble a little about a few failed friendships. Failed because someone forgot to put batteries in the back of the clock, correct the time and now the long hand’s in the short hand’s territory, and we’ve failed to tell the time. Failed to see that there is no time.

Failed because I’ve been refilling the sand in the hour glass and my hands feel heavy, burdened with broken promises and wasted effort.


What we have left is a bunch of scrapbook memories

teaspoons of sweet nostalgia; photographs on facebook of a school experience and maybe,  comatose souvenirs that I’m not so sure I’ll keep on life support. That’s exactly it! I feel like I’ve been the one putting in all the effort…but now I’m effortless.

 I don’t want to be a                                                                                                                                                                          half-weathered friend: half sun, half shade. I don’t want to be an acquaintance-friend. I prefer to be an acquaintance. It hurts a lot, but I need to let go and move on with my life.

Don’t get me wrong at all.  You probably think that I blame you guys for everything. If that’s what you think, then overthink it. I know I’m too blame as well. I know that. I absolutely do, because I gave up on this… because it doesn’t have a tomorrow, just a yesterday…

 You’ve all made your decisions. You’ve lived with them, regardless of what anyone thinks. I’ve made mine too. When we were real friends, you were good to me. And I hope you can say the same about me. But there’s another road I must journey on, and I’m taking it. Lives are roads, they are, some cross never to meet again, others….others might intersect, meet at a junction, knife or fork.  I feel like saying I’m sorry, but I don’t have anything to be sorry for.

This road that I’m on… it won’t meet yours for a while, but maybe one day it will. I don’t know whether I should hope for that, or merely discard the notion with a shrug. This idea of friendship between us, has faultiness the length of the San Andreas. Fault lines that are as deep as personality traits, habits, genomes.

If I say sorry, it will because it’s courteous and not because I really feel like what I’m doing is wrong.

And I know that you care, but in a hello-how are you- I’m walking away as you give me the answer sorta way. In a background sort of way, the way that you know your phone is in your back denim pocket. You don’t have to pat it to know it’s there.

But when it vibrates, when it rings, when the fault lines cause a tremor… then you’re more aware. Then you’re interested. But I’m not. Not any more. I wish you all the best. I really do. Take that or leave it, because when you all come back, a lot won’t be the same.

Ours has been a sort of… stained glass friendship, it a looks pretty, but you can see through it.

I can see through it. To the emptiness that is the other side.  I think you’ll be all right without me.  I hope you will be.  I guess this is my way of saying goodbye. And then again, hello.  To something different. To change.

“Where I’m

going…

you

can’t

come.”

 

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