Tuesday, December 25, 2007

Not Today.

Rest and relaxation my ass. The first few days I was here, I did nothing but work. Hello, Liz Claibourne, here I come. That retail store came out the scathed one after I got my days off. I went bowling with an ex-boyfriend and an ex-friend (it was a night for the exes, and that just happened to include stunning the shit out of them by speaking only in sarcasm and witty comebacks to insults, which they didn't always understand, because their dialect is a little different from mine), saw a few people I knew in high school, attended the Christmas party of said ex-boyfriend's mom (who, by the way, still loves me, unlike said boy!), took a vacation to a comedy club in B-ham, went snowboarding on 3 hours of sleep and adrenaline (very interesting, since it was my first day back on the slopes after a year hiatus), had a not-so-fun conversation with my little sister about her trouble-making doings, had a not-so-fun experience with marijuana (I wasn't smoking it, and I ended up in the previously mentioned ex's car, having a nervous breakdown), went Christmas shopping (yes, my family procrastinates), set up the Christmas tree (again, the procrastination), and finally hit Christmas.

A friend of mine said today, "This Christmas felt less like Christmas than any other before, but I think that's how it will continue to feel for the rest of my life." He took the words right out of my mouth. Even though my family and I have been taking part in the same Christmas routine for five years now, this Christmas being hardly different, it wasn't the same for me. Maybe it's just because I'm not a kid anymore. I've grown up, turned eighteen. Time is passing me by, too fast for me to see, and I can't catch it, can't hold it back. Maybe it's because this Christmas is truly different because I have experienced more than I ever wanted to this year; the death of a best friend; the fast approaching death of a beloved great-grandmother and that of a great-granddad; the idea that drugs are becoming a big deal in the lives of over half of my friends; that I have witnessed people do stupid things and screw up their lives for no apparent reason other than "liking it too much to give it up" (applied to more than just drugs).

Recently, the theme of my life has become change. It's what I've been talking about lately. The topic of conversations, the obessions of my non-existant OCD, the reason why my "friends" are letting me down. I must face the fact: I'm changing. Everyone and everything around me is changing. And even though I don't want to lose those people I used to call my friends, maybe it's better if I do. Stop calling. Stop writing, stop communication. And maybe one day, I'll be able to forgive, to accept, to return. But that day isn't today. Or tomorrow. Or even a week from now. From this day, looking forward, it appears miles away. You can barely see it through all the jungle of untrekked life. But it's there. One day, I will come back. But not today.