It's been a long time, I know. In my head I kept writing posts and notes and in real life I kept on post-poning writing them. I talked with Ellie before I left for New York one quiet September night, while we were sitting on a bench somewhere in the city.
I was as calm and careful as I could.
As diplomatic as I could.
And she listened.
And said she was sorry.
And it still feels as if she's too far away.
I know why she is like this, so judgemental, shallow even. I know how she has been raised, how she has been treated, demeaned, all her life. By her own parents. Her own family. I can see where she's coming from. I understand. That's why I don't blame her as much. That's why I excuse things that piss me off.
Like her telling me to try and get out of the uni that I just got in, inspite of the fact that I like it, because "I have no talent for it." I have not even tried it! It has always been like that with things I wanted to try out. She always says "You don't have the talent for it." But I have not tried seriously.
And even if I don't have a particular talent in something, damn it, my best friend should not be the unsupportive one.
So we speak. We talk. It feels as if a connection has been lost.
New York was... It was different. Comforting. Even though I was a stranger, I felt at home in its bustling streets. I felt content with the anonymity, with the ability to just sit down and observe the people around you. I felt surounded by people, and their stories, and their lights, and the stories of their lights. I felt like I could make anything happen. I felt I had opportunities and if I didn't, I could make some.
I liked the feeling of the city. I could probably live there.
The anonymity. The opportunity to begin from a blank slate.
That's what I would like.
