Rendezvous
15 May 09 : 05.53 AM
A minute ago, I was talking to Bob. Bob's one of my oldest friends. If only I remember more of her from back then when we were 7, not just birthday parties from old pictures where we're lined straight in front of the cake smiling at the camera. There's this scene in my head where we play the piano together and she's teaching me how to play a song. But she's been everywhere but here since, jetsetting to Brunei, to London. She's back this June.
I want to talk about 20 the way I talked about 18. To be able to say, I felt that sense of suddenly living ever so slightly. That there might have been something good that characterized this year. Can't say it was fruitful. Marked more by incessant tears than laughter. I thought about how people used to tell me I'm this girl who laughs at everything. That boy with the camera in his hands who met me last October would agree but he'd met me on a good day. Is everyone not funny anymore or am I just detached?
At 20, it's about the people. Understanding that I am not the enemy. A boy I had felt was completely my own, suddenly not. A precious old friend holding my hand and sleeping in my bed with me while I shudder and tear over my own mistakes. Two roommates who would have me over at their place while the lights are low and I listen to jazz music with one as the other falls asleep. Finding me back some people who used to matter when I was younger, who would laugh crazy with me at everything. Finding me some new girls I have come to adore. People who left or are at a distance, oh this list is long. Two pitiably insecure older girls that feel like they sprung from my mid-teen years. A new boy that has changed me in ways more than he'll ever understand. At the end of 20, it's someone new having to go.
Sometimes, there's nothing more comforting than the break of day.