To a Friend, who was there when it all changed.

You know that old saying, that birds of a feather stick together? It's not true. Birds of a feather may fly together for a little while but they don't always end up in a luscious green tree together forever.

Exactly what happened to us? We used to be so tight that I thought for certain that if we were to see each other again and again it would eventually make me sick, like having too much food after sampling every course at the buffet and then going back for seconds. We could talk for hours on end about nothing in particular, yet we could also go on about everything because we were young and everything seemed to be of the utmost importance for our future.

The feelings we had enveloped my senses, wrapping me in that kind of warm embrace I crave from being alone for too long. The never-ending train of laughter and the naughty inside jokes permeated my shortening days.

I don't know when I noticed that you were not being genuine anymore. I like to think I'm a little more intuitive than the average person. You were beginning to make jokes that would sting my feelings. You were beginning to take for granted the time we shared with each other and being late became almost routine. You would debate about issues that don't really matter. You preach cliches like they are the only way of thinking and doing anything.

Now it's over and I don't know why.

The Ghost

[Fictional]

He was a ghost. There was no doubt in your mind that he existed, yet you really didn't want to acknowledge it. Why was that, anyway? You knew him when he was human, even looked forward to the times when he would come around for dinner and you would both get caught up in bruschetta and pasta and stay up for hours pouring your hearts out to each other.

He was a ghost. You feared the sight of him now. Well, at least that hadn't changed. Funnily enough, as much as you had anticipated his voice, you also feared the thought of meeting him in person on any unprecedented occassion, like maybe one day bumping into him on the street with the someone he had been tagged taking selfies with on Facebook that one time you had nothing to do.

He was a ghost. You knew he existed. You can feel him still and your heart goes all warm and cold then warm again then cold again every time you remember his voice, his touch. Maybe your overactive imagination was taking hold again. It had been a problem since you were old enough to conjure up realistic scenarios of dragons and the contents of your trunk when you were on your shopping trip before wizard school began. You can't help that think that maybe having your mind play tricks was beginning to be a pain in the one place you can't state out because you're conservative and old-fashioned.

He was a ghost. He left almost as quickly and quietly as the time your phone turned black for no plausible reason. Come to think of it, they were both the same. Unreliable track records with no positive feedback, yet still managed to leave your heart aching a little when you couldn't actually depend on it anymore.

How to bid farewell

How do you make sure that you're ready for that final farewell?

I once read that in order to make parting easier, you find fault in everything that you're about to leave and when you're just about to leave you feel angry and negative and all the bad emotions till you really just can't wait to leave the place for good.

I don't know how legit that method is, but it sounds like such a bad way to leave a place that must mean a lot to you.

I've been finding my own methods to bid farewell and have the strength to leave with my heart intact.

I know i will probably feel like anchoring myself permanently to the ground and hope to only and forever be drenched in the beautiful memories of the place. This feels foreign to me. 

I'm not the staying type, I'm not a big fan of commitment and I don't have a problem jumping into unknown waters (provided it's safe of course, calculated risks and all), but when a place has become familiar to the point that the streets and the buildings and the air and the people no longer fill me with trepidation and fear, I know I am at home.

How do you leave your home? Especially the one that has moulded you and developed you, for better or for worse, into the person that you are  now?

You live in the moment. You relish you last few days and hours in the warm embrace of the Melbournian sun and you gorge yourself silly at your favourite brunch spots and you make it a point that you tell yourself the same words at every place on your list that you have to (re)visit: "This may very well be the last time I'll be here. Maybe in a few months, maybe in a few years, maybe forever. Thank you for the memories, and goodbye."

The end of a chapter will be the beginning of another. We never know how long we have left but we know it will never be enough, protect the memories but brace yourself for another kind of adventure, another journey, another chance at falling madly in love. The only way to truly live is to allow yourself the chance to feel, but have the courage to let go and do it all over again.

I hate cliches

When do you know you've had enough?

When the tears flow and you have no more reason to defend them? When you just get a headache because you can't comprehend the rationale, or you just don't want to?

It must be nice to cry. I haven't done it in awhile. I want to, but I can't. Crying can be a luxury too. Funny how you never view it that way until you find something affect you to the extent that you've got so much to let go but you don't know how because you physically cannot.

Every time I stumble on something new, I think to myself: this must be it. It's something worth fighting for, worth staying for, worth crying for.

I thought I'd found it again after the fiasco that preceded. But no.

I've learnt now that everyone is the same.

Someone once asked me if my expectations were too high? I told them I learnt never to expect anymore, I always get disappointed.

But now that I think about it, if I don't have any more expectations why am I still feeling like this.

Maybe it's like I thought, this time will be different. But its' not.

When someone makes you cry (or feel like crying) and you cannot justify it anymore, then you walk away. And you don't look back.

Good thing I've become so good at it.

The Revival

You know that feeling you get when you've got the world to say but no shoulder to cry on just coz people don't get it?

All I've ever really wanted is just someone to listen wholeheartedly to what I have to say, giving me that undivided attention and just let me release all the pent-up emotion I have been suppressing in the form of tailored and subtle tweets.

I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself and I've been doing exactly that for four years now. I don't need help, I don't need anyone's help.

I just need a friend.