Begin again, again. 

It is all so funny, funny how it starts. A smile shared between strangers. A neighbour, classmate or someone sharing your train seat. Maybe you shared the love for a filmstar or could be a band you both were crazy for. No matter how it starts, the moment that brought you together is not important, never was. I don’t remember how I met my best friend and trust me, I have tried. Tried and failed, and finally resorted to recounting the first memory of ours that I can look back to. It was special. That moment when we knew, somehow, that this was meant to be. That we were, somehow, meant to be in each other’s path.

 It is all so relative. The first time you meet someone isn’t always memorable. Some times you click from the get-go, and sometimes it takes a few tries. What you remember about any moment, about any first encounter is based on what your mind finds worthy of remembrance. That first glance, first moment was never important. Looking back, I remember, the times when I laughed so hard that I thought I would pee in my pants, the times when she understood in just a glance, all the things I didn’t speak out loud. These are the things that come to my mind when I think about the people I love. Never the first meeting, almost never.  And somehow, that makes everything special. As if, somehow, we have known each other for the longest time. 

Have we no control over our minds? Why can’t we choose to remember, and to forget? Forget, all the people we once loved. All the friendships turned sour, all of the heartbreaks. All the songs we sang, all the nights we spent. Or maybe it is our hearts that need to be tamed. To be ushered back in, inside of our ribs, as soon as heartbreak peeks round the corner. I wish life worked like that. I wish we could protect ourselves against the pain, the pain that comes from the loss of a friendship. I wish life were kind enough to let us choose our people for a lifetime, a lifetime of a binding and unbreakable vow. 
You know what really sucks? Betrayal? No. It is the debilitating love. When you look at her and know, that things would never be the same. And there is nothing you can do. Knowing that makes everything worse. But maybe there is something you could do. Next time, choose better. Next time, do not close your heart just because you have been hurt before. Next time, give up a little earlier than before. And next time, remember to forgive a little. 

Life is full of sweet juxtapositions, little ironies. It enjoys watching us struggle, survive. It takes a caterpillar and turns it into a butterfly. It gives us the Sun and the rain. It gives us a heart and a cage. Life says, choice is yours. You can either live a little or let everything wither away. You can either try or not. There never was an in-between. 

Of this be sure, you do not find the happy life… you make it. 


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