It is currently 12:35am, my Mum, Dad and I are sitting up late in front of the TV watching Scandal. I spent all day (quite literally) immersed in my school work (which I am loving btw). Lecture after lecture, page after page, I feel happy that I am becoming more knowledgeable.
Tomorrow I am meeting an old friend. She is someone that I met at school in the eighth grade, but have lost contact with over the years. She is someone who I was so close with at the tender ages of 13/14 that I called her my best friend and meant it. I am aware that people change over time- we all do (and it’s perfectly healthy and normal), but a little bit of me hopes that there is something still there that makes me want to call her my best friend again. If that isn’t there, then I at least wish for there to be something new that makes me adore her just like I did in the eighth grade.
Meeting old friends gives me that nervousness in the pit of my stomach and the fear that everything might not (and probably isn’t- ‘change’, people) be exactly as they were. I mean, things might in fact be the same, and’hope’ is what I rely on when meeting with her in an effort to calm my nerves.
Anyway, I had that on my chest. I am not opposed to change – in fact, I try to embrace positive change as much as I can. There is comfort in what was there before, though. The way people are remembered is sometimes more comforting than the reality.
Meeting old friends is scary, exciting and amazing all in one.
I’ll talk later,