bridges that burn themselves (except there is no bridge actually burning lol)
It all began with the utmost, unavoidable injustice that tore the plan ahead for both of us. I've never had to grieve the loss of chances and opportunities and togetherness for just one person in the span of three months.
it was more than just an acquaintanceship.
it was a close-knit that made me willing to voluntarily give up early bed time routine, it was the kind of bond where my introvert self doesn't mind the exhaustion of being out and about. trust formed real-quick.
I, without hesitation, would admit that the way I've been treating almost every friendship in college is, uh, transactional. I've always calculated the ROI, considering both what they're able to give and vice versa in extreme precision. I know this is sacrilegious, but I'm not a monster, you know; it's just a protective shield I have, in the name of practicing detachment—my way of keeping my vulnerable soul alive.
But that detached, heartless mask is the very thing I'm unable to wear in front of this person. It's like a God-sent. God will, He sent me this person to unpack every wrong doing, every monster-like approach to my social life I've been doing, each and every one of my jerk move.
I'm all-exposed.
And yes, I'm ashamed, embarrassed, saddened to death to confront the kind of monster I've become. But I don't feel and think like it's the end of the world, I don't think the universe should punish me right here and now for all the sins I've committed, at least—at least, not in front of this one person.
I've finally become human. Again. After God knows how long.
Not that type of monster who navigates life in most bitter, crazy, dangerous way.
So if I ever become better, if my face ever lights up a bit more, if my tone of voice changes and sounded more positive now, it's all thanks to her. If my outlook on life has shifted—even a little bit, if not completely—if you hear and see me being more genuine in every step of my way, it's all, also, also thanks to her.
But if my voice sounds colder, if my shoulder tense deeper than before, if my eyes hold knife-sharp grudge, it's also, sadly, probably all thanks to her.
The realization that we won't continue in the same path still rings like a death note in both of my ears. To see, for the hundred-thousandth time in my life, the beautiful "what-ifs" evaporate like they don't matter—I'm so scared of turning into an even worse monster than before.
But I won't. obviously. 2024 is the last year I'll allow myself a dozen psychosomatic complaints in life, and letting grudge burn this 2025 resolution wouldn't be so cool, would it?
For whoever I'll end up becoming, just know that I started 2025 with this. With loose ends. With hopes left hanging in the air. With wishes that never come true. With friendship break-up threats. With uncertainty. I hate uncertainties.
with love and with uncertainty,
Nadia.
