One of those rants

I had brunch with my best friend from primary school at a chocolate restaurant a few days ago. At times, I found myself wondering why she still wants to keep in touch. Her intellectual capabilities are obviously much higher than mine, we have grown to grow up in completely different contexts and we are looking for different things out of our lives. Yet, the whole day turned out to be great. We reminisced about the past, laughed about our childhood crushes (well, just mine - she was a practical kid who didn't waste time daydreaming about and analysing actions and words of random boys, although she did agree to analyse my crushes with me; come to think of it - I still don't know if she ever had a crush on anyone yet!) and talked about the present and the future. Yet, a lot of the times, I felt that we failed to understand each other because we were not on the same page with things. This is something that did not bother us much because our connection was that we were best friends when we were eleven, and we both understand that we will never return to that time.

I think I might have broken the trust of one of my best friends without even realising it at the time. Then I did it again, and I might have done it the third time. How does one girl make up to another girl? I have no idea. It is harder to deal with this because I am not quite sure if my apologies were real enough or if I have even done something wrong. I will not get to see her for over a week, and I not sure how things will be afterwards. She is one of the absolute best friends I have ever had, and it would a shame to lose her. I think I vaguely understand her cautiousness though. She has felt betrayed by some of her closest people about a certain issue, and she will not let it happen to herself again. I wish she would just talk to herself completely honestly and figure out what she wants first, then just come clean completely. 

Another friend is possibly very annoyed with me too. Her issues are much bigger than anything I have ever faced (or wish to face in the future). Even though I thought I could help when we first started talking, I realised I cannot deal with it. (Dejavu, L?)

I guess the problem with both of the situations above is that I do not know myself very well. If I did, I would be exactly sure of my capabilities and intentions and make it clear to others too. I guess 'I am unwritten, can't read my mind, I'm undefined. I'm just beginning, the pen's in my hand, ending unplanned.' Ah Natasha Beddingfield. She says she 'threw some chords together, needs some help, some inspiration, but its not coming easily'. As if!

The amusing thing about a lot of us is that we obsess about the future, yet, we do not even know if it will come. We worry about what is to come, we dream about the possibilities, we calculate the implications of the decisions we made or were made for us in the past. Yet, we do not even know if they will pay off.

I watched one and a half romantic comedies in the recent past - He's Not That Into You and High Fidelity. I gave up after watching half of High Fidelity, although, I did like one quote from the very beginning: 'What came first, the music or the misery? People worry about kids playing with guns, or watching violent videos, that some sort of culture of violence will take them over. Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands, literally thousands of songs about heartbreak, rejection, pain, misery and loss. Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?'

And yes, I do feel a tad miserable today. And I wrote a pop song. FG gave me eight very fresh roses on the 11th. Eleven days have gone and they have become droopy. Though they smell quite horrible (must chuck soon), they have this certain saddening beauty to them. I wrote a pop song (slash poem, whatever you want to make of it) after coming up with the first two lines about these flowers.  I also have a tune in my head, but unfortunately (or fortunately) the out-of-tune tune will not see daylight and be heard by public ears.

The roses have dried

They are drooping to the floor

My eyes have cried

Some of my heart tore.

I waited for that knock

I waited for your call

No one  came by

And I began to fall.

Do you remember

The days of our laughter

Do you remember

Days of perfection

Do you remember

That morning after

The way your heart lay on mine

We noticed every sign.

Those days are gone

Not looking through

Rose tinted glass any more

There were new dawns

New ways we washed up on

Different sea shores.

Yet, our memories are there

Pieces of happiness stored somewhere

Do you remember

That morning after

The way your heart lay on mine

We noticed every sign.