Currently, I find myself in a situation that isn’t any more that surprising. It might as well be just a regular Saturday if at all, because finding me meandering through thoughts alone in a café on a quite pleasant spring afternoon might be just what normal is now. The old, new normal, because it’s really nothing I’m not already used to.
I hate to reintroduce a vague notion of high school back in to the fold, but without it, it’s difficult to discuss my own merde. As in, there’s no merde without the high school past. It’s a delicate subject now, probably one in which most of my friends from there would not even give a thought about in the day-to-day business. They’ve all moved miles away from those four years, and even myself, I’m further from that time than I have ever been in my life, both literally and figuratively. But I also don’t expect many of them to have random thoughts about me in a similar way that I do about them. I am sure about that because it’s so obvious.
I don’t want to say that I feel left behind and almost forgotten, but the truth is that yes, a part of me feels that way. A part of me also feels like I’ve been betrayed in some absurd sense, and even I consciously view it as absurd. They’ve done nothing to me because they’ve just simply went on appropriately with each their lives. As absurd as it is, I can’t help but feel like that in some way, and I feel so guilty. I don’t want myself to feel like that about them because they are such good people.
I didn’t know what to anticipate, actually. Of course, I had hopes that since I had such few friends in high school, they’d be those friends that always, no matter what, feel the same to you even after being months and years apart. I guess you could say that I had unreasonable expectations for them that I shouldn’t have imposed. It was unfair and they deserved to be treated better since they were such great friends to me.
Yet another part of me feels this undeniable jealousy that I am also guilty of feeling. Jealous of the amazing people that they’ve already become, and of the bright path that they’ve began carving for themselves. And every time that I am reminded of that, I also remind myself of an assortment of things, such as the things I’ve failed to do (mostly), things that unfolded out of my favour, and the simple fact that they are almost certainly happier than me. I know that comparison is the thief of happiness, but with these constant reminders surrounding me so often, sometimes I’m unable to deny it.
I know that I can’t look them in the eye any more and deny this mixture of feelings that they’ve become to me. The guilt simply unsettles me to the bone, and I can’t go on treating them that way even if they aren’t aware of every thing that they’ve become to me. To them, I might still be what I once was. But to me, they’ve long gone their new paths and left me only as a memory simply associated with those four years. Perhaps I’m only worth such that, because that is the way I’m swayed to feel. May they forgive me, nonetheless. They are good people who would never feel that about me. The fault’s with me, again. The stars have nothing to do with it.