I have a bunch of old writing I want to cast into this vast internet.
Entry One:
I thought I was doing fine, that I wasn’t reminiscing or missing anything until I decided to spend 30 minutes seeing where my old school friends have gone. Turns out, we’ve all gone in vastly different directions. For some friends, the only thing now visible to be about them is a small round picture – a social media profile picture – of themselves on social media. What is unmistakeable, though, is the truth that I no longer know them. It is painful to think about, but it is true.
Some of them now wear the revealing clothes their conservative parents never let them wear while they still lived at home. Others have come out as queer, and it’s like I’m seeing an infinitely more self-confident version of them.
Where did we all go, and where did all the time go? Truly. I rarely, if ever, feel like the person I once was when I was their friend. But it was still so difficult to see all of the people I once knew so well as vestiges of their older selves. It is indisputable, now, that we’ve grown up and apart.
As I step into what I think is true adulthood (the pomp and show of it all), I feel like I’m riding a bike on a busy street. I know how to ride the bike, but the cars and lights and busyness feels like it can throw me off at any time.
Entry Two:
When you are the one saying goodbye to someone, the pain feels – in my opinion – 10 times more acute than the receiver of the goodbye. That is how I justify how emotional I get when I think about leaving home. The other person can tell you it’s not goodbye, but what do they know? I mean, what do either or any of us know about what is planned or what will happen to us?
When I’ve said goodbye to people who have just fleeted through my life, I’d think about what to say in our last interaction (which would often be planned in advance, like a farewell party or a card circulated in the office). Even though the only thing I truly felt I wanted to say was “goodbye!”, I felt uncomfortable leaving it there. I felt I had to lie, I had to exaggerate their role in my life. I needed to confirm to them that they mattered, that I noticed them and that I understood the magnitude of the final moment. I’d feel fits of paralysis in the unsureness of the moment, because I wanted the end to be perfect. This has lead me to do things like writing “stay in touch!” to people I had no true reason to stay in touch with. But with people who truly matter, I have a paralysis too. But this time, it’s of wanting to say everything under the sun but knowing I just shouldn’t and can’t.
In my goodbyes, I’l try to memorize just one thing about the other person. Just one. And cling onto it.
Entry Three:
I would love if there was an online ranking of how emotionally mature or globally aware or humble everyone in the world is. We do it for income and compare where we are with people who earn more than we do, so why not get imposter syndrome from strangers who are more emotionally advanced than us. I wonder what the correlation is between generational wealth and maturity.
De minimis: inconsequential, immaterial.
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