I’ve come to realize quite a bit in the past few days following the unfortunate tragedy that was my birthday. I guess one has that luxury when you’re truly all alone. Accompanied by your thoughts to aid and soothe those desolate days away. One of the main cerebrates plaguing me with its nuisances are of friendships and in particular the fact that I don’t really have a close-knit group of friends like I used to when I was back in school. You know that group of friends, about five or six that you’d always meet up with in the playgrounds or outside of school. Sit next to each other in classes and be invited to parties because of association. We used to call ourselves ‘The Punani Sisters’ after some of us watched The Sweetest Thing. It was all fun and games back then, even though I was never truly close to all of those girls, aside from two or three but they were always there no matter how lame or how much trivial trouble you got yourself in; they were there. Period.
And I really miss that.
I really miss not having someone I can just talk to every single day. To send text messages to every minute of the day, Snapchatting or Instagramming random photos. Going out for dinner or coffee catch up’s at midnight. Telephoning someone with some good news or bad or even about nothing at all. And doing it all again thirty minutes later because I thought of a funny joke, or ran into an ex. Sporadically making plans for the next hour or going on thrilling shopping escapades to the nearest mall. I suppose I have my idea of friendship is much like that of the characters of Sex And The City. Four girls who’ll always meet up on a Sunday morn for brunch, regardless of what transpired or with who the night before. Chicks before dicks. I guess it’s not too far-fetched of an idea considering it does mirror much like the friendships I’ve had since I was eleven years old.
But the thing is I don’t have friendships like that anymore. Or even friends for that matter. I thought I did. Thought I was kinda part of something similar but I wasn’t. I am not the center of others Universes as they are to mine. And that hurts, really hurts deep down. Becoming aware that you’re not part of anything triggers that evil inner demon who’s always told you never truly belonged. That you’re weird, that there’s something wrong with you and that no one really likes or cares about you.
Desperately clawing and forcing my square shaped peg down a circular hole.
I’m a loner, a wafter or drifter of sorts, merely floating and dancing around the inner circles of others much like a game of musical chairs, hoping to score myself a placement. I was blinded by shiny lights, perhaps choosing not to see the ugly reality that there was never a chair for me to begin with nor would one ever become available. Sure others shared their places with me, scooting over an inch or two so I could sit down for a moment but I never truly had a spot.
These days we’re no longer bound by school yard walls and because of this people have traveled in different directions. Hell, myself included. And maybe because I choose such a radically different path, so opposite to those traveled by those people I used to know it was pretty much inevitable. But in saying so shouldn’t I have met like-minded people venturing down this same path? Maybe I need to get out more? Expand my horizons and such. Easier said then done when you’re broke.
Either way I am still desperately trying to hold onto those people even though we don’t truly serve a purpose to each other anymore. I’m trying to remain relevant but it’s no use because look at what happens. It always ends the same way. Special days come and go and you’re almost always the last to know or be invited because most times you’re just forgotten. I’ve been stuck in this rip tide, thinking I’ve been doing good by swimming alongside the shoreline like you’re supposed to. But the truth is I am not. I am so disoriented, swimming blindly towards the shore, battling against the rip itself so obviously it’s pulling me further out to sea; further away from civilization as I know it and no one but myself can save me.
Simple as that.
And I shouldn’t cry or whimper over this. It’s not the first time moments like those transpired, it’s been repeating for a good two years now and I need to stop ignoring the facts. Just accept this and move on. Focus on making my dreams come true and focus on what makes me happy right now. Like reading a good book and admiring the beautiful intricacies that words make. And then of course my little sidekick with whom I never feel a shred of loneliness when in her darling presence.