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I remember that time when we were six and you mom bought us iced tea at the trashy pizza restaurant around the corner of your building. The pizza took so long that Wednesday. She started ordering at four thirty but then the oven broke, but we had paid, and the novice left in charge that afternoon didn’t know how to return money through the machine yet. At five, you said you were thirsty because the last time you ate or was at the after-school activity, and that was only a grilled hot dog. It was four hours ago, of course your tummy was empty. Mine was, too, but I hadn’t dared to say anything yet.
She bought us two cans of iced tea, one lemon flavored and one peach. It was probably just to make it easier to wait just a little while longer. We also got two glasses. I think it was my idea to pretend to be a bartender. I mixed half the can of lemon tea and half the can of peach tea with ice. I took a drink and told you it was good, even though I could taste the difference from just drinking one flavor.
Then you tried. You said you loved it too but I don’t know how much we lied that day. You spun you glass, because you loved doing that, living on the line. Your tea splashed me in the face and it stained my favorite sweater, but of course I forgive you, I always do.
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At sixteen, I was supposed to go on a weekend trip to the mountains with my family. I wasn’t looking forward to it, I’d much rather watch crappy romcoms with you, even though that was not how this night ended. I don't hate being in nature, but I don’t love it either. Dad didn’t really care about me being on the trip. He cares less than mom, that’s why I asked him.
You were free and you brought friends I barely knew. I ended up hating it and you did too. We built a pyramid of diet coke cans, but someone tripped into it. You helped me clean up after making everyone leave, and we watched the sunrise before we fell asleep on the couch in our giant sweaters. Mine was blue, like the color of melancholy. I felt too young to be responsible for a drunk bunch of teenagers.
My Spotify got haunted when we were cleaning. That one song about pointless relationships kept playing, but I was too tired to do anything about it.
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After your grad party you told me that you might go insane because of the future. So much new, nothing familiar, but at the same time as you wanted everything to change, you couldn’t take it any longer.
“Do you wanna talk about it? We could talk it good if we lie hard enough.” I said, because, honestly? It’s terrifying. I know you wish it would be good all the time, but that’s not how life happens.
“Yeah. Let’s just say we both have goals. We can reach them if we try.”
I laughed a bit, but we both knew it wasn’t funny.
“Let’s just say we didn’t get rejected from all the colleges for a second. Which college would you go to?
“NYU. Definitely.” You said. I knew it was your dream but you didn’t make it. Maybe you didn’t try hard enough, or maybe it was just bad luck.
“Okay I already knew that. I’d probably choose NYU too. But if I was serious I would have tried harder with my grades.”
“To be honest? Same.”
I know you didn’t mean that. You tried as hard as you could, you studied every night you had free time and you really, really hoped you would get in. But you didn’t. Life was in the way again, like it had been for the last seventeen years. I decided not to mention it.
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That sleepover we had when we were twelve. It was just you and me, and that feeling I cannot describe, or maybe I can. It’s like you’re a part of me, and we’re only perfect when we're together. But it’s not romantic. It’s just there.
You chose the movie, Bring It On! and I said I hate it but I don’t, not really. I mean, the movie is horrible, but it doesn’t matter. I enjoy spending time with you, and it doesn’t matter what bad movie we’re watching.
You said something stupid and I laughed. Don’t think the joke was pretty funny but I was so tired, and I laugh when I am tired. After a while, you started laughing too. Nobody remembered what we were laughing at, we were just enjoying the moment.
We only stopped laughing after a long time, because it felt like a fire in my lungs and my ribs, and I think yours hurt too. I made short braids in your light brown hair, and it didn’t matter how ugly they turned out. We can take them out in the morning.
We shared your bed and it took so long to fall asleep because you kept tickling me with your feet in your sleep. I was almost a zombie when I got home the next day but it didn’t matter. I kind of wish my mind never changed. I wanted to stay like that forever. I wish it never changed.
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We ended up going to the same college. It was a small one, and the car ride from home was only one hour. It wasn’t too far so we weren’t that scared, but it was still long enough to feel like we escaped. We wanted to be new, we wanted to be young and free. Though we were scared two months before, it was a dream to go to college. Neither of us thought we’d actually make it. I guess I always assumed that life would end after high school. Not necessarily that I’d die, but I didn’t think anything would happen.
But there we stood, looking at the tiny and scabby dorm room where we’d stay at least for a year. Don’t know if it would last that long. Maybe college would be too hard. Maybe we’d give up and drop out. Why do people assume that we can get through everything? Grind our teeth behind the polite smile and tell them that it’s okay, it’s alright.
I was late to three lectures during the first two days. The dream I had isn’t like reality. At least I have you, think it’s us against the world.
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It feels so different, you know? Can you remember how thinking was like, when we were kids? It’s like thoughts are different in our brains. Our thoughts moved more, floating in the head and turning into a whole new thought in a few seconds. I think it was the imagination.
I miss how my mind was.
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It’s been half a year since I started university. Even though there are people around me, and I have the whole world at the tip of my finger, I’ve never felt more alone. Is this normal?
I told you and you felt the same. We didn’t start laughing. We don’t do that very often any more. Life feels too serious.
We go out on a walk, even though it’s in the middle of the night. It’s so strange how a place so full of light can become… empty. The day street is so lively, so bright, so full of hope. The midnight street is the opposite. It’s dark, quiet and somehow it makes me feel sad, but in a good way. I think the word for that feeling is kenopsia.
Will it ever be enough to have friends? Or will I have to abandon you to become ‘successful’? You are the only friend I’ll need, but that will never be enough.
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