In another life, in another life, baby
you must have been mine
It does seem like a weird other life - the days we were all we needed, when we hardly had friends in school but it didn't matter because we were all that did.
Sometimes I do wonder why I don't miss you; I'd never even imagine things going back again. It was a past - a sweet past, but also a huge mess I've completely gotten over. I don't miss you, at all, or feel anything when I see you.
At the same time, I know that when you talk about certain things in a certain way, I know you don't mean it deep inside. Things like hooking up with pretty girls, saying it in a way that doesn't seem like it matters a crazy lot -
I know
how sincere you were
when you were with me.
of course, that was a different you - insecure, in need of love to fuel your own self-worth. But I know the side you display to others, in your madness and the way you say things, isn't totally who you really are - a sweet, dedicated individual, who isn't just playin' around.
The day we broke up, you finally said yeah, maybe we really could just be friends - great friends someday; I could be there for you for future heartaches and breakups. Like a sister.
Our paths crossed at a time so vulnerable for us both - unloved, rejected. We filled each other's lives for a year and nine months. After that the lines broke apart; we couldn't think about each other without rage, tears, heartache, loneliness.
Now, around a year and nine months after it all ended,
we realise friendship isn't that unrealistic a goal after all.
There's a box my mum gave me when I was young - transparent with a pink tint, super glittery, with a crown on top. Metal corners and a metal latch. I called it my "princess box" - it made me feel pretty, like a girl in a tiara. My brother had something similar in dark blue. In it I put pretty things that had significance.
A glass pebble my mum had a box of from Ikea - so pretty, rainbow-ish at some angles.
A little plastic rose.
A sticker with my full name on it that my aunt (or mum) had helped me print out.
A flower petal and little pieces of a rubber ball and hose. In P3 or P4 I went for a science workshop at the Science Centre and this guy poured dry ice over these soft things, and they instantly shattered. We were amazed. When we picked them up after that, we were even more amazed to find them back to their original soft/rubber state again. Meant a lot to me. The wonders of science.
I threw these things away when I gave the box to you. I didn't want to get rid of them, but they were useless. The sentimental value of them, though, was inexplicable but so strong. Little pretty things that captivated me that I had put into my princess box.
I gave the box to you, with other pretty things - paper-folded stars that you had to unfold to reveal little Chinese song quotes.
Some time after we broke up, I was looking into my drawer and saw my brother's blue box - and realised my box was probably gone forever, together with you. I wasn't going to ask for it.
It symbolised something precious I had given away that would always be in my memory, of a time of simplicity and beauty, that I'd unfortunately never see again, or have that tangible object to remind me of it.
Like that ring (because I lost it).
Now that it's returned to me,
empty,
it's only a shell of what it used to be - oh the colourful little things that once filled it, filled me - now empty, but still holding the memories of how my life used to be.
Now, on to friendship.
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