Tag Archives: friendship

64. when its not lego you’re playing with

my friendships fade the way snowangels lose their shape in the hale of falling snow.
the past is covered up by the present. the future cares little for memories. if at all.

little girls think that prefection is attainable.
i did.
i wanted it all: the prince, the fairytale, the works. i wanted the golden carriage, the friends you can trust. friends who trust you.

would you believe me if i told you i almost had it all?

no. stop. look here. open your palm, recieve a crocodile tear. that’s what X would call the by-product of my pain. 
maybe he’s right. maybe i don’t feel. maybe every tear cried for someone else is selfish. maybe i’m crying only for myself.

and now, imagine.
imagine the girl you knew from pri-school, long time ago now, shuts you out. one of your best friends for god knows how many years. you let her. you can’t be chasing her. it’s all too much. let her get away. weeks later you get mad, mad at her for not caring about your friendship, about putting her creepy male friend first. she denies. and then she relents. she tells you everything. or so you presume. she lost her virginity to him. got pregnant by chance that very first time. passed out when she found out. lost the baby soon thereafter. is still with her girlfriend now.

now tell me, what would you do?

how can you bridge the world anew when it’s not lego you’re playing with any more, but life?


13. maybe you can change that when you come back

you’re still not back. or maybe you are, but i was not told of your return. i sent you a text last night. it’s not that i really missed you when you you were away, it’s just that i want you back here already. i’d like to pour out some thoughts at you, criticise a few people, gloat, get mad at you and then realise that is what i was expecting of the conversation all along – the quiet notes of sarcasm, the audible longing to be mine, the comfortable pauses you for some reason want to fill in. why do you want to fill them in?

yesterday i thought i’d get to talk to you at last. it’s not even that i’d hoped for it, no, i expected it. it was virtually a given. but no.
so i spoke to Y instead. i called him, of course.
he did call me the day before, around eight at night, but i was asleep then, the sheer exhaustion of the past few days tiring me out ot the point that i never woke up from my hour-long nap, or at least not until the next morning.

it’s strange to think he meant so much to me. he doesn’t really now. i talk to him, hell yeah, but that is it. i can’t imagine him being in my life again, his selfish ways, his trying to be what he isn’t, his race issues. no, i could not deal with that again.

but you. could i deal with you?
i’m not quite sure of that either. you’re so complex, you yearn for so much. you’re just like me.
and X is uncomplicated. simple. easy to understand. easy to deal with.
i guess that’s why he’s in my life.
i guess that’s why i’m still holding on to the dream that never was.

maybe you can change that when you come back.  
and maybe, just maybe, you can’t…

12. befriend the males and then lean on the females for support

do you remember what a sigh of relief sounds like? i almost forgot. but now i know again.

after the excitement is replaced by contentment, the world goes back to its original colours. i like it better that way. now, i can actually analyse the way i live, the way i feel, the way i crave stablility without giving any back. 

i can look truthfully at the way that i befriend the males and then lean on the females for support. it’s beautiful in its simplicity and staggering in its consequences.

you see how i write about males? about you, X, Y and Z? 

well, maybe i should write a little about the girls in my life too. because they’re there, because they can hurt just as much as you boys do, if not more. so here we go:

A and B i’ve known since forever. they’ve been there for me as long as i’ve known. and i’ve been there for them – for the tears and broken hearts and shopping trips. i’ve been there when they weren’t necessarily there for each other, i’ve been there when boys’ actions threatened to snap them in two, when the world seemed like a lonely place.
i’ve been there for them and they’ve been there for me.

and then there’s C. she’s amazing. she doesn’t judge. she doesn’t ask for much. she works so hard for everything. she is who i’d like to be if i couldn’t be me. 
and there’s more still – there’s D and E and F, but though they’re been here for long, their contribution to my life is scarce, their views so rarely aired i couldn’t tell you them if i tried. there’s even G, who likes X so much i think she’d die of happiness if we were to break up, but hey, they’re not the main players. they’re just letters.

letters from the alphabet of my life.

maybe when this book is over, if it ever is over, the characters will have emerged off the page, letters more than just a part of the alphabet, much more, but till then, let A, B and C remain in their dimension. it is not a dimension that is inferior to you or Y/Z/X, but it is different.

their lack of mention is the very beauty of their existence.
they begin me and you lot complete me.

10. very nearly our year. but not quite.

it’s odd to think i’ll be leaving this year behind so soon. it was a year of growth, of pain and happiness and love. i almost want to do a flashback to all the key moments of the last year, to relive them again, to go back and breathe the fresh air of the park in the summer, when me and Y laid there looking at the clouds.

i want to go back to the valentines day that was a bit of failure, but still beautiful in its simplicity. to relive the moment when one man asked me and Y “are you two together” and how i flashed him my most striking smile and, laughing ever so slightly, said “kind of”. it was so complicated and simple. but that was then.

i want to go back to the phonecalls me and Y would have. maybe that record 3 hour 22 minute conversation when we first said that we loved each other. we didn’t mean it, not then, but it was a magnificent moment still. i don’t know if that was this year or last, but hey, it’s there somewhere. it’s in the memories attributed to Y and this was his and my year. very nearly our year. but not quite.

you know, boy, me and Y had spent so much time hiding. there was one time in the park when we saw someone we knew and we immediately split up, trying to act casual, not managing, but still getting away unseen by him.
or that time when everyone kept asking us if we were together and i, twiddling the ring he gave me, laughingly told them that no, we were not going out. and we weren’t.

a little way into our friendship, that was closer than platonic friendship could ever be, i told Y not to ever ask me out, not to ever put me into position of having to refuse him.
i wouldn’t change that if i could. it wasn’t that i wasn’t ready to commit, i just wasn’t ready to commit to him.

and now this year is nearly over, i recount those memories and love them.
love them because they bring me happiness in knowing that there was a time i loved, and in knowing that, i know i’ll love again.


cras amet qui numquam amavit quique amavit cras amet
‘Let those love now, who’ve never loved; let those who’ve loved, love yet again.’