I Part Ways with My Best Friends in My Head
You’ve grown, so it’s (kinda) normal to part ways.
I’ve cut people off of my life. Sometimes if I cared enough, I provided a carefully and beautifully threaded explanation with all of my heart, but most of the time I just left them hanging. I was hoping that those whom I left unanswered will reflect on themselves, although what happened was always them bombarding me to give them explanations followed by me never replying their messages and returning their calls, and I’m about to do it again.
I recently flew to my hometown because one of my high school best friends got married. People around me named it as “Bridesmaid duty is calling”, but really, in this age, what duty do bridesmaid have except to dress uniformly at the wedding reception? So I flew, carrying nothing but a cabin-sized purple luggage filled with souvenirs from Seoul for my best friends, a set of pajamas, my bridesmaid uniform, a pair of high-heeled sandals, and an airport-appropriate outfit.
I hate flying to my hometown. It reminds me of the worst period of my life. Being in Bali is always suffocating, regardless the ocassion. I’m not seeing my grandparents, but the anguish is too strong that even the name of the place makes me sick. But I kept reminding myself that I was there for 2 nights only, so everything’s gonna be fine.
I thought about some topics that I could talk about with my best friends, whom the last time I saw and conversed was 6 months ago (at someone’s wedding). “How’s your kid?”, “How’s the IVF program going?”, “How’s your Dad’s cancer?” are in the back of my mind, but would ask it when I was in private with each of them. I looked at the person next to my left, snoring and was in a deep sleep I guess. I envied this person. I couldn’t sleep. I was going to my hometown, that place, how could I sleep?
I was calling the hotel’s front desk at 11 pm,
“Hi, this is room 250. My room is connected with the next room 249, I don’t know the person, so please lock the connecting door.”
I wasn’t exactly in the state of panic, more like the state of disgusted at what one of my best friends (the bride) and the groom had done. Disgusted on the surface level, but deep down quite disappointed.
The security arrived, locked the connecting door, and left after asking me a question, “You’re one of the guests of Ms. X and Mr. Y, right?” I said yes. Not long after that the bride and groom knocked on my door, they brought me a bottle of soju that I requested. They’re naturally good people, but this… I didn’t accept.
“Did you ask the security to lock the connecting door?” asked the groom.
“Yeah. How did you know?”
They both looked at each other and smiled, “He was walking by and told us that one of our friends called the front desk…”
“We thought it would be fun because it’s Y’s friend is next door. He’s single too. Maybe you know… you two could bond, especially with the soju that we brought,” said Ms. X, my own friend.
I was speechless. That weekend, I never found out if it was a joke or not.
“I could switch room with Z. She’s single and perhaps she wants some company.”
I’m not proud with it, but I was red and scared at the same time.
“Nah, we want you to be closer with this guy. He seems great. The plan is for him to knock the door at midnight,” Mr. Y put the soju bottle on the table. They linked hands and said good night. I almost slammed my door in front of their faces.
That night, I slept past midnight. Just to assure that nothing fishy happened.
I’m so awkward when it comes to posing in front of the camera. But, when it comes to a wedding, all of a sudden, people expect you to be a pro-model. They expect you to know where to stand, how to carry yourself in the picture, and what should you do with the bride. People also expect you to dress and look flawless because a wedding is indeed where nosy and judgey people are.
“Well, she is a bit dark,” Ms. X’s aunt decided to give a comment on my look. The comment slipped after the bride’s brother told me to come forward since in the picture, the area where I was standing was dark (and because a friend’s shadow was casted on me).
I forced a silly smile, she made a gesture where she put her hand covering her mouth. Giggling behind the hand. Thinking that the words she just uttered amused everyone in the room. An achievement, perhaps. Everyone was radio silent. I spent the rest of the day thinking about it.
I’m on a path where I’m trying to accept my appearance. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’ll never be skinny and I don’t want to be skinny. I’m also accepting my skin is brown and it can’t go any lighter than that. So, on that day I thought about this over and over again not because I hate my exterior, but more like “I should’ve come with a clapback.” I bitterly regretted it the whole day. I take credits for this mannerism, I don’t comment on people’s appearance. At least my parents are doing one thing right. I could’ve said to the aunt that “Her burned ugly face with uneven legs would scare the children on Halloween,” but I didn’t. I didn’t say it. Why can people do the same?
I was in the car with A, B, C, and C’s husband. We were going to the church, where the holy matrimony was held. I wasn’t surprised, the hot topic in the car was somebody’s life. Apparently, someone from our high school is now a successful influencer and my friends hate the way she creates her content. Since I don’t have an Instagram, I was grateful that I didn’t have to make comments on such useless topic. I mean, if you were talking to the high school me, then I’d excitedly join the conversation. But really, I’ve grown. This topic is insignificant to me.
I was hoping we could talk more about our own lives, our career, our past, our future or how do they view certain topics. I want to know how they think about an issue. We haven’t talked much and yet when we met, that was how it’s gonna be? I wanted to hear their stories and how they’re doing, but it seemed like all they could talk about was other’s lives. The two things that came up about themselves were their marriage and their sex life. From there, one of them would make a comment on me and Z’s life.
“You two are the last ones. Find a boyfriend! Get married!” they spoke in such urgency that if we don’t get married soon, it’d somehow move the moon or break the law.
“I’m not interested in marriage,” I said while looking at the window. My hometown was crowded with white tourists.
“Not this again. Marriage is a happy thing. I mean, sure, there will be unhappy moments, but if we look at it, overall… it’s a happy and meaningful thing,” said one of my friends (she’s one of the people that I have cut off of my life). She’s been married for 5 months. Obviously, what she said was a certified truth. Such an expert in marriage.
I scoffed. It wasn’t worth it to start an argument, or an explanation on how I’ve seen the messed up side of marriage. It fucks me and my sister’s lives. It wasn’t worth it to tell her that I’m gonna carry this mark, this pain, and this painful truth my whole life, knowing that it took more than a decade just to feel normal again. She wasn’t worth an explanation.
“Well, good for you then,” I said, indifferently.
“Ask everyone. C and husband, you guys are happy right?” she asked, nonchalantly.
C was still talking to her lover even days before she got married. Sure. After C got married with her husband, sure, they’re happy now, aren’t they?
The night came and the reception started. I thought I was ready to have small talks with high school friends who came to the wedding. My friends and I, we were seated. We didn’t have to look for food, the food came to our table. That’s how special we were that night.
Some high school friends came to our table. My social battery was tested to the fullest. I thought to myself, why couldn’t distant friends like these bunch waved hello, then I’d wave back, smiled and then we moved on? Why did they have to come to the table, said hello to me, then stood still, as if waiting for me to start a conversation?! Was I the only one who felt uncomfortable with the empty air around us?
I admit I was a pretty cheerful friend when I was in high school. I joked around and laughed a lot more during those days. So I know they thought they could still rely on me to start a conversation. What they don’t know, now I had to replace a couple of hours of human interaction with 10-hour sleep. Really, I’ve grown. I’m not the same person with who I was 10 years ago and I like it better this way. I’m not complaining.
One thing that wasn’t delivered to our table was alcohol. It was at the corner of the ballroom, way at the back where most of the distant friends were standing. I let go of my desire to drink that night so I didn’t have to make small talks where I was the only one who put an effort. That’s how much I despised socializing with distant friends.
At 5 am sharp on a Sunday, the next day, I was already at the airport. I decided to fly back home on the first morning flight of this particular airline. In the plane, I watched the sun rose as Euphoria was playing unintentionally on Spotify. I thought again about that weekend. Rather than being energized, I felt drained and empty. I didn’t gain anything. Usually, when I conversed with people, I gained insights and new perspectives. I didn’t get anything this time.
For the first time, I cried in a wedding (exactly during the holy matrimony) because I knew how hard my friend fought for her relationship with this dude. I cried because she could finally be happy in her own terms. I was happy for her because her parents finally let her go. I was happy because her parents finally let her changed her religion. But after that, I felt disconnected most of the time. I felt like my friends didn’t know how to deal with me and my bitter remarks, and I didn’t know how to handle their new lives. Simply put, we were not on the same page anymore. We were not in sync anymore. We were not walking side by side anymore.
I’d like to think that despite me feeling disconnected, we still love and care for each other. I believe that love isn’t synonymous with staying on the same page every damn time. I can still love them wholeheartedly while walking on a different path with the rest of them. I still love them, we have so much history.
In that moment, when the plane finally touched the ground, simultaneously… I let go of the past. I let go of them, our younger selves who were smiling, giggling, doing whatever and talking whatever, not knowing that adulthood was scary. I let go of those memories, partying until the dawn came, underage drinking, underage driving, all the reckless stuff we’ve done, they were merely small parts of me. My friends, they were such good friends to me in the past. If it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t have survive all those years. If it wasn’t for all those nightime driving, drunk sleepovers, and all those years being the shittiest version of ourselves, I wouldn’t grow this much.
I tried to make up for the lost times, but it seems like I was doing it alone? It was so lonely at the time. I know during those years when we barely spoke to each other, I was still unstable and my best friends probably had a hard time reaching for me. They were just as confused as I was. I didn’t even know myself at the time, what did I expect to happen? I’ve built the wall so high that I’ve got no one to blame but me. Without realizing, it’s not me who’s moving forward, it’s them. I’m currently doing a renovation; restructuring and rebuilding everything — my life, myself included.
I know that my friends are genuine and kind people, that’s why I set them free — free from me, a friend who’s still trying to figure things out and slowly piecing together the puzzle in her head.
