I’m a selfish person, that I would admit, and I could be really greedy and possessive at times. It’s no wonder then, that one of the hardest things in life for me is letting go.
Losing is rarely an option for me, and while achieving less than what I wanted is enough to make me fuss and left me unsatisfied, it’s letting go of what could never been that I really have trouble dealing it.
It’s a deadly combination of the tendency to cling on to the past and expectation kills.
I tend to remember things the way they used to be, and somehow it makes it harder for me to accept any changes. Especially when the past felt more familiar than the uncertainty that the present entrails. On the other side, I always have my own expectation for everyone and everything. And when it doesn’t come true, when it ended up as an expectation kills, I normally hold on for the sake of waiting until my expectations come true.
These made it really hard for me to deal with people, because I rarely know when to stop.
I know people does drift apart at some point, and I also know that no matter what, things doesn’t always stay the way it used to be. That doesn’t make it easier in accepting that we’re drifting apart right now. Or ever.
Maybe we’re all busy with our lives right now, maybe we are all changing and it make it harder for us to stick close and exchange stories the way it used to be, maybe we developed different interests and the intersecting points in our lives grew lesser and lesser as time passed. Maybe I’m the one changing too much, and somehow all of you doesn’t know me or know how to deal with me anymore. Maybe I’m the one closing off doors and sealing myself inside, too scared of any future heartaches and unconsciously decided to widen the space between us. I don’t know. All I know is that we’re not as close as we used to be.
We’re drifting apart and I don’t want that. I refuse to accept that.
But being the only one desperately wanting that doesn’t bode well with me either. After all, I can only try and insist for so much. It’s more likely that you’ll get sick of me sooner if I insist to stick close, if I initiate nonsense and unimportant talks all the time, if I keep babbling and forcing all of you to be interested in my daily life in the hope that you’ll tell me what’s happening to you in return.
I know it’s inevitable for us to go our separate ways. But I wish, oh I really wish that it doesn’t happen this soon. And I hope that even when we do go our ways, you’ll still care enough to turn around and check up on me, that you’ll still care enough not to forget me.
Because I won’t, and I’ll always remember the days when us laughing together is easy, the days when everything could develop into an interesting conversation. I’ll recall them, and I’ll smile ruefully to myself upon the memories, wishing that they’re not merely memories.
Because I miss you, I miss our daily talks, I miss us exchanging stories and laugh or cry together, I miss having you around.
And you know very well that I don’t fare well alone, especially when I’m as anxious about the future as I am now.
À la mort,
It feels like I’m the only one that wish our friendships would never fade into forgotten memories, and I’m the only one that works on lessening the strains in them.