life pulls in all directions, but memories bring us back to where we’ve been

Today I went on my facebook timeline and scrolled my way down to simpler times. Times when I still had my braces. Times when I wore scary clothes.  Times when I didn’t know how to spell. Times when I took pictures of absolutely everything. Times before I discovered the joys of music. Times when there was no drama and I wasn’t in love with anyone and life was at its most peaceful.

I looked at old statuses and laughed to myself, then quickly deleted them so no one else would see my 14 year old brain unleashed. I clicked through the pictures of me and smirked at my odd purple hair. I grinned as I remembered sitting in A&W with my music camp buddies, asking a stranger if they could please take a picture of us. I saw a picture of myself sitting in a shopping cart with my friend pushing it, and smiled as I touched the scar on my elbow that came into being when the cart toppled over, sending me careening onto the paved parking lot. I watched a video a friend made about our summer and sighed at the old memories that I can’t really relive, not truly. I scrolled through old wall posts and laughed at inside jokes I shared with my friends and the sometimes nonsensical conversations we had.

Some tears came to my eyes as I read past conversations my old best friend and paused to think about what exactly happen between us. We didn’t have a falling out, we just drifted apart. We  haven’t spoken in nearly a year. I don’t know what’s going on in his life. I can hardly remember what he looks like.

It’s hard to remember old conversations with past loved ones. He posted something incredibly sweet on my wall on my 15th birthday and I saw it today and all of it, all of our talks and our jokes and our quiet moments — our music critiquing, our trips to nowhere in particular — all the movies we’ve seen together and the meals we’ve eaten together, the tears we’ve shed together and the laughs we’ve had together — everything about him and everything about our friendship, it all came flooding back at once and all I could think was damn do I miss him.

And then I stopped.

And I really thought about that.

We didn’t drift apart for no reason. He was changing. I was changing. He left quizzing. I started going to real school. His personality evolved in its own direction. My personality evolved in its own direction.

I’m quite content with my life right now. Three years ago, he was an integral part of that content life. Now he’s not. And I don’t miss that. Other people have come and gone and filled that gap just as well as he did. I haven’t spoken to him in months. I don’t know what he’s like now. I don’t know if he’s someone whose company I would enjoy. I don’t really miss him. I miss the experiences.

I miss all of those places we went together and the things we did together and the conversations we had together. I could go those places and do those things and say those words with someone else, right now, but it wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t be the same circumstance. It wouldn’t be the same person. I miss the experiences because they were literally once-in-a-lifetime.

If he came back into my life tomorrow or next week or next month and we became really good friends again, that would be cool. I would love that. But it’s not something I’m longing for. If he never comes into my life again, that would be cool. I would be fine with that. I don’t miss him. I miss the friendship that we had and the experiences that we shared.

And all of this from facebook. Who knew facebook could provoke me to actually think?

I guess it’s possible to miss a friendship without missing the friend.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s