Monday, 19 January 2015

We All Have Someone That We Used To Know

black and white girl image
Last year felt like I was headed for a one way collision, and it was 12 months of tired eyes dazzled by bright lights and headlights. It was a year of tattle tales and secret keepers, scarlet letters and dirty labels. It was 365 days of broken people just trying to make it. We ended the year with different people than we started it with, and we switched sides.

When I think about the people that have ran in and out of my life, or the ones I've exiled from it, I feel like I'm staring down a hall of magic mirrors, filled with reflections of myself that I can't avoid. On the last night  of the year, instead of staring into glitter and champagne flutes, I got stuck in the past. New Years Eve became a time warp.

I started thinking about years past, about the late nights I spent with temporary friends. I remembered the linger of cheap fake tan and the taste of hairspray in our throats. I thought about the way we performed acts of imitation, striving to be like the other. I remembered red wine stains on pink lips, and choked laughter and disappointment. It was all hedonistic dreams and alcohol induced memory loss.

Then after a while, I started to think about the others that I've known.

Some of them I pushed away, because I needed to in order to survive.

Some of them I saved, but they never saved me back. When push came to shove, they hid underground like guilt ridden thieves on the run. I'd like to think they remembered the times I sacrificed my own reputation for theirs, and the moments I listened to silent cries. But they don't.

People move on, people forget. 

Think about all the people you have ever been friends with, and the ones you've crossed lines with. How many of them do you still know? The likelihood is that your life is full of people that you used to know or don't want to anymore. There's no bad blood, but there's no familiarity anymore, either. There are courteous happy birthdays and cheery Christmas wishes, but there is not much else. All of a sudden, you don't know what they're up to or how they've been, and you don't know how to ask.

I'm of the belief that if you put a little bit of faith in people, they can use it to surprise themselves. I've always been the type of person to believe in someone until they give me a reason not to, and I'll never be able to say that I didn't give them a chance. The worst thing is after investing so much time in fixing broken smiles and twenty something scars, that they can't do the same for you. After all this time, they don't even try.

Some people are never meant to be in it until the end, and you were never meant to be there for them, either.

I can't help but look at twenty-something relationships like uncharted constellations. It's like having a map of the people we used to know, the hearts we've loved and the humans we've broken. It's a predetermined pattern of bright lights, a timeline of explosion intertwined with the strange realities of dumb luck.

Against black midnight skies aflame with white starlight are our particles and histories, stories and open books. We are all just chasing lights in the dust.

A silver pendulum swings, the metal catches the light, and the hands of a clock never stop moving. It keeps going, and as time moves forward it moves us too, and sometimes it's away from each other.

On January 1st, the floor was sticky, the glasses were broken and spirits were dulled. Lager covered table tops and paper scattered across old flooring, lonely inflatables in an empty space. Surrounded by spilt Prosecco, sharpened claws and loose lips, I catapulted back into the present. There are so many people who were in my life, and I find it hard not to miss them. The clock had struck twelve, and there was silence on both sides. Beneath the thudding sounds of heartbeats and countdowns, the silence had never been so loud.