I don’t know. I don’t know. I DON’T KNOW.
I think I’ll go back eventually. Eventually. Eventually when?
Home and all things affiliated seem so far.
I talk to my best friend. We discuss relationships. Relationships with jobs. Relationships with mutual friends. Relationships with exes. Relationships with family members. Our conversation flows easily and feels the same. Comfortable elements remain, but it’s contained. She tells me about New York. I tell her about Hong Kong. Neither of us really knows what the other is talking about. We can relate up to a certain point. The same kind of feeling resurfaces from when I spoke with my brother.
The picture of each other’s lives are painted in puzzles of semi-imagined pieces. The pieces are clear and glass-like. Some have sharp edges, some are colored, some are black. Some are cartoonish. Some are connected to others. Some fit together perfectly. Some are even in 3D! Most are still in the box, mixed about messily, begging us to arrange them in a systemized way. It’s not possible.
Back when we were in the same place, everything was easy.
We were reading the same articles, the same sentences, the same words in unison.
Now, we read separately.
We take notes on different passages, rereading, underlining the parts which mean the most to us, then moving onto the chapter at our own pace.
This is the problem with friends.
The old ones slowly become unrecognizable. As much as we want to have consistency, we can’t. Gaps can’t be filled in an organized way. That’s not how it works. Even the best ones fade in and out, coming and going as they please. It’s not easy to catch them.
The new ones slowly come in and take over. You don’t know them well and they don’t know you. You find yourself viewing them from a distance, as if they’re a new crop of Hollywood actors and actresses trying to convince you to watch their newest films. What will they do next? How can they convince you to trust them? Surely some award-winning performances are required to prove they’re “fo’ real.” They have to pull at your heartstrings or make you laugh or make you think deeply or make you question important matters or get you to care about something. Otherwise, you’ll forget you even saw them.
Is there a way to maintain old and new? Can the old ones be replaced with similar ones? Should they be? Or do you just leave their glasses half-filled?