Mea sola vetus amicus
Dear old friend,
It’s me. I can’t begin to express how sorry I am for leaving you this long without an update. It’s been almost 2 years since you’ve last heard of me or any of my news and to say a lot has changed would definitely be the understatement of the century.
I’m a much-grown woman now with a different perspective, but I’m somehow still the same. The same aspirations, the same feelings, the same dreams, and most importantly, rooted in the same ground. The past two years have thrown me into quite a turmoil of emotions. The crests and troughs that were thrown at me were more than what an average person could tolerate, but I made it through, scathed tho.
Life has a funny way of teaching us lessons, doesn’t it? It goes either one punch at a time so that you can barely have time to register or anticipate when the coming one would be, or throw it all at once with all the might there is so that you can barely stand up again. I’ve experienced both in the form of failed friendships, wrong decisions, moments of eternal hurt, fear, anger, and so much more. However, each time I come out with a wound that’s much deeper than its predecessor and keep hoping that this wound would be a reminder of a certainly learned lesson.
Did I tell you that growing up doesn’t only add years to your life, but also new foreign feelings? Loneliness makes the top of the list. It’s a new cruel world, nobody has time for friendships, relationships, or any ship as a matter of fact. Each to his own boat on a distinct journey that only God knows where the destination might be. Along the way, some boats may bump into each other in a port somewhere far from the homeland, and just like accidentally meeting, they part ways forever. Some other boats merge into one, one often saving the other one from being wrecked by the cruel waves of the ocean. It’s a game of luck, and you just don’t know where you might end up without taking the risk of sailing on your own.
Another foreign feeling has to be content. There’s a fine line between being content and happy. Grownups seldom have the time to be genuinely happy. To me, the true meaning of happiness is always associated with the purity of childhood, the adventure of teen years, but not adulthood. Adults tend to lean more into contentment. You’re content with the silence, content with the small circle of friends you have, content with having a completely uneventful day, content with that warm cup of coffee, content with a warm meal, but you’re also content with the loneliness. It’s like you’ve made a dear friend out of that cold feeling. One that might be bound to stay for all eternity, or if you’re lucky enough, be driven away.
Feelings have distinct sounds, did you know that? It’s like each one has a core memory etched deep down into our subconscious, painting each feeling with a sound, and playing a melody that only we can hear. Those melodies age like fine wine in a dark den. No matter what you go through, their permanence, their tones, their loudness, and their taste stay the same. Funny.
My precious friend, life had to be cruel and teach me that everyone loses individuals more than Sherlock Holmes’ unhealthy consumption of tobacco. And the worst thing in this? You eventually wouldn’t mind one bit. It’s because you’re certain you’ll meet them, life has made that perfectly clear. The imperfectly perfect ones to accept your moments of light, darkness, coolness, and fiery. You’ll carve your impact onto their hearts. You find that you belong to people who seek warmth when the moon disagrees with the sun, and seek shelter from the sun when it’s having one of its furious days. The price, however, has to be years of your life. It’s inevitable really.
I’ve learned that everybody cries sometimes. Since the eye is the window of the soul, the tears are a guide to look up and indulge in those eyes. Do they carry that broken look around? Do they crinkle at the sides from the excessive yet genuine laughs? Are they always glossy from the unshed tears and hurt choked up inside? Do they still sparkle under the golden sun rays or are they simply, yet numbly, dull? Not everyone will notice the guide under disguise, even the closest to you, it might go unnoticed by them. It’s a dangerous game. One that you’ll play in different stages with different mindsets and potentially a different circle. It keeps you grounded really. It’s like a very cold wake-up call that splashes your face amidst the direst winter of all. But you learn. You follow patterns, you see more than what people ought to dish out to you, for disappointment is the best teacher out there.
My dear old friend, I cannot begin to express how sorry I am for leaving you hanging by a thread, not knowing when your next update will come knocking bearing good news or any news really. I can’t part with you without a promise of reaching out, but I can’t cuff myself to a promise I can’t keep. This is surely not a final Adieu, but a temporary Auf Wiedersehen.
Your loyal friend,
Reem
