Dear friend
Time marches so unrelentingly onwards, it's often far too easy to blink and have the past vanish before you. In what feels like a fraction of a second, moments once cherished and held closely become but memories; destined to fade as time takes a tight grip and unforgivingly pulls us forward.
Winter, so dark and sombre, is a forgiving time to experience lows. It affects us all, I think. The lack of sunlight, the harrowing winds and rain, is a testament to how crucial vitamin D can be to mental wellness. Though for unrelated reasons, this winter has been particularly tough for me. As I'm sure you're aware, for I practically spewed out my thought process raw and verbatim.
But the winds pass, the rains lighten, and a new season dawns upon us. Spring is coming, and summer is around the corner. Yet these, too, unrelentingly march on. Before we know it, 2023 will rear its head.
As the days become brighter in both a figurative and literal sense, I find myself feeling more and more empty. Recollecting the past so plaintively. These memories turn into reminders of the happy-go-lucky days of yesterday, and how such days are behind me.
This is not new. For as long as I can remember, even in childhood, I've fallen into a state of wistfulness when the sun shines high and bright each and every summer. Flooded with happy memories - and how they haunt me so. It's as though I experience chronic nostalgia for the youth I lose more and more each day. Times gone by, times not had, times that could have been had were things to work out differently, and potential times yet to be had still.
In particular, this is around the time of year I would invite my best friend on a roadtrip. Perhaps to a beach, or a theme park, or a vacation away to Scotland. These are moments I cherish so deeply, and miss more and more each passing day. The bond we shared was, I'd like to think, special. No other friendship or relationship has felt this way, and I've never been able to find out why. Romantic partners have come and gone. Trust me, I have had my share of heartache. But while the pain is real in that moment, overcoming it becomes easier with time. But a powerful friendship like this, one that I thought would last for a lifetime… to have someone know you completely inside and out, to notice your minor imperfections and quirks… someone who can trust you with their deepest secrets and you trust just as much in return… when it goes, you are destroyed.
And therein lies the problem. I had entrusted my entire being and purpose into them, that without them I feel so empty and hopeless. I am surrounded by people telling me they care, that they appreciate me and enjoy my company, but I still feel so alone. I wish I could express with words truly how broken I feel. I wish I could help you understand that it hurts like no other pain I've felt before. I really do wish I could, but I cannot. And I know the way I was in the past was unhealthy. Intense attachments like that, left untreated, tend to be. But hindsight is 20/20 - and knowing now that I was unhealthy then, in no way helps me to recover from the pain I still experience today.
I will fully confess that not longer after it happened, I tried to reach out to as many people as I could at once - facing the unknown, alone and scared, begging for a listening ear any way I could. Recasting the extras as main characters in the story of my life. However, I've since come to realise that friendships should not be built from hurt, formed from one side needing the other so suddenly. They should occur genuinely; blossoming from a common interest of some kind. Though in times like this, that's something I refuse to do. I refuse to refill what hole my best friend occupied. Friends are irreplaceable, and one shouldn't be so hastily ready to overcome someone with another like that. I have since stopped reaching out to these people. I would rather have a few genuine friends, than many acquaintances. If I am to be friends with them, I'd like for it to happen naturally.
Yet that hole in my life daunts me. Try as I might to honour my therapist's wishes, and fill it with a routine I can call my own. Things like the guitar, sketching, journalling (yes, believe it or not I do also keep a private journal which contains much more intimate details than this blog), and much more. But none of it fits completely. A piece of me is still missing. A piece in the shape of my best friend. A piece I can't get back.
And so, here I stand and watch as the seasons pass. Uncontrollably spiralling as I'm reminded of happier moments now gone, as time marches so unrelentingly onwards.