Friendships are weird phases we go through. Friends come and friends go. Some friends stay, some walk away. Some stay uninvited. Some were never meant to be. Friendships are weird phases we all go through.
It's amazing who walks by your path when you least expect it and who stays. We choose to walk side by side those who give us everything we believe a friendship should give us. And then we grow up and fall apart, sometimes. Or we grow up to be stronger, sometimes. We grow up to know that nothing is ever permanent. Friends you thought would be there, aren't there anymore. People you never imagined walking your way, stop by and stay on. And life really goes on.
Friends began to be those who sat next to you in class to those who were your neighbours to those whose family your parents knew. They shared your toys, ate sandwiches from your tiffin box and shared that chocolate with you. They became partners in games, homework, performance at school and were those we used to even shout, scream and cry at/about.
Friendships were made and broken at convenience back then. That's the one thing I love about being a kid. You're as egoistic as can be, and you were allowed to be. You voice your thoughts, your expectations, your dreams. You never really have life-threatening fears as such because there are options.
And then we grow up. Friendships become more than just about sharing toys, hairbands and magazines. They somehow become a bond - one becomes a weird promissory note to the other - of words unspoken but written in blood, imaginary of course. Experiences grow deep-rooted. Friendships slowly become family matters. Mums join in. Brothers, sisters, dads and sometimes cousins, too.
There is no ego. There is just no ego (and if there's ego, you need to question your friendship). You become more than free floating paragraphs that feature in the same chapter of life. You somehow become pages of the same book. You're bound in more ways than one. You're a part of this beautiful bond that trespasses so many walls and boundaries. You see each other in your best and worst and stand by each other nonetheless. You overlap. You become one, almost.
But what does one do when everything you think a friendship should be, gets questioned and tested? We all paint such idealistic pictures of what friends should be and are and must be. What happens to those times when the same friends stop being what they should, are and must be? What happens when you question everything around you? Where do you go when the walls you had so effortlessly broken down, get built up again? What happens when your defenses are so high that all you can think about is yourself? Where did that friendship go? Where did you both go? And where does that leave you now?
What happens then?
Do you awaken that dormant ego? Or do you escape and walk away? Do you sit down and cry till you can cry no more? Do you use distance to corrode your feelings? Or do you dive right in and work at things? What happens then?
I haven't ever believed in the concept of best friends. At first it was too cliched and childish. Now it's just a superstition - a fear that something you uphold to that degree will fall and shatter right in your face. There isn't a best for me. There never has been. And even if there was a best, they were in plurals because I don't believe in a best. And it works fine for me. Not because I have options but because ideals have that annoying way of conjuring up the most extreme forms of expectations. And we know what expectations do to us.
I call friendships phases because friends come and go, stay and couch in on your life. They stroll in and out. Some stay for good. The rest come by at different times and places of your life; times when you need them the most.
It's amazing who walks by your path when you least expect it and who stays. We choose to walk side by side those who give us everything we believe a friendship should give us. And then we grow up and fall apart, sometimes. Or we grow up to be stronger, sometimes. We grow up to know that nothing is ever permanent. Friends you thought would be there, aren't there anymore. People you never imagined walking your way, stop by and stay on. And life really goes on.
Friends began to be those who sat next to you in class to those who were your neighbours to those whose family your parents knew. They shared your toys, ate sandwiches from your tiffin box and shared that chocolate with you. They became partners in games, homework, performance at school and were those we used to even shout, scream and cry at/about.
Friendships were made and broken at convenience back then. That's the one thing I love about being a kid. You're as egoistic as can be, and you were allowed to be. You voice your thoughts, your expectations, your dreams. You never really have life-threatening fears as such because there are options.
And then we grow up. Friendships become more than just about sharing toys, hairbands and magazines. They somehow become a bond - one becomes a weird promissory note to the other - of words unspoken but written in blood, imaginary of course. Experiences grow deep-rooted. Friendships slowly become family matters. Mums join in. Brothers, sisters, dads and sometimes cousins, too.
There is no ego. There is just no ego (and if there's ego, you need to question your friendship). You become more than free floating paragraphs that feature in the same chapter of life. You somehow become pages of the same book. You're bound in more ways than one. You're a part of this beautiful bond that trespasses so many walls and boundaries. You see each other in your best and worst and stand by each other nonetheless. You overlap. You become one, almost.
But what does one do when everything you think a friendship should be, gets questioned and tested? We all paint such idealistic pictures of what friends should be and are and must be. What happens to those times when the same friends stop being what they should, are and must be? What happens when you question everything around you? Where do you go when the walls you had so effortlessly broken down, get built up again? What happens when your defenses are so high that all you can think about is yourself? Where did that friendship go? Where did you both go? And where does that leave you now?
What happens then?
Do you awaken that dormant ego? Or do you escape and walk away? Do you sit down and cry till you can cry no more? Do you use distance to corrode your feelings? Or do you dive right in and work at things? What happens then?
I haven't ever believed in the concept of best friends. At first it was too cliched and childish. Now it's just a superstition - a fear that something you uphold to that degree will fall and shatter right in your face. There isn't a best for me. There never has been. And even if there was a best, they were in plurals because I don't believe in a best. And it works fine for me. Not because I have options but because ideals have that annoying way of conjuring up the most extreme forms of expectations. And we know what expectations do to us.
I call friendships phases because friends come and go, stay and couch in on your life. They stroll in and out. Some stay for good. The rest come by at different times and places of your life; times when you need them the most.
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