I sat next to this girl at this movie thing premiere who was texting her boyfriend. Or her ex. Or her best pal. Or a fortunate mixture of them all. A 3 in 1 successful blend of caffeine, milk and alcohol that always keeps you awake yet makes you dizzy and bold with adrenaline when you least expect. She was laughing, she was having such a party time. She had been with this person for so many uncountable moments they shared the same DNA.
As I finished my drink and got up to leave a strangely familiar hit in the back of the head came to take my memory from where I left it: my past.
Some days – I honestly wish I had a lifelong person who I can be comfortable with, I miss this kind of behavior that people you get to see once in a lifetime share. I had that with my exes after many many years and I somehow resent it, because when you start a new thing with a new someone, you both have histories that are not with each other. And its difficult to beat that, at least until you build your own history.
I guess sometimes what I miss most are not my exes, but the complicity, the intimacy we shared after a long time. To the end, our relationships were more open and there was a place free to say/do anything.
We are a bundle of places and people, in our insides. Lockers filled with creatures that wake up shivers, smiles or unbearable home sicknesses. Most of the time, we still loves others. And I understand all people who do, and I don’t mind. I’m just somehow sad because I always wanted to be with someone for a very long time and live to the point where we become the best friends. That may just be something that ingrained in my brain cells years before romance struck into my teenage years, or from that day on the couch when my mother told me she and my dad were enough for each other. Or John Finch, who wrote “Hope will find us holding hands in backs of movie theaters”, poem.