Yes, it's another friendship post

I've written before (here and here) about friendships, in an attempt to work through changes. Those words were effective and honest. They still ring true, more than I would like to admit. 

But this is different. 
This time it isn't just about long distance friendships. 
And it isn't just about long gaps between conversations so that it's difficult to figure out if there is common ground. 

This time, it is the slow knife-twist of seeing actual events prove one of your worst fears - the best friendships can die.  It is the knowledge that sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you will not be able to understand or be happy for the people you claim to love. 
It is the guilt that comes with that knowledge and inability. 
It is the imagined feelings of being left out that you struggled with as a child and worked hard at leaving behind, turning into the reality of actually being left behind. 
It is being on a road you thought you had company on and then looking around to see that you are on a different road altogether.
It is believing a friendship would last a lifetime only to realise it lasted just a season.
It is trying to reach out across the chasm only you seem to see and finding that there is no one on the other side. 
It is wanting to tell your stories to the important people to then understand that they do not care to hear. 
It is the excitement of discovery dissipating into the ether because those you thought would feel joy, don't even want to know. 

It is parallel lines that will never meet. 
Or even worse, lines that intersected once, never to meet again. 

Some posts need updating

I wrote this post four years ago. I think it's time it was updated. 

http://ayeshasruti.blogspot.com/2012/12/i-cant-seem-to-be-able-look-at-my-hands.html

I can look at my hands again. Now, when I see them, I don't think of broken dreams and ruined sandcastles. I don't think of the things I let go.

Now, I see how I built myself a life far away from everything familiar. The opportunities I have grasped even though things were difficult. The home I set up and maintain, a space all mine. The new things I learn every day, the job I am learning to become better at. The meals I make for myself both simple and fancy. The support I offer to those most important to me. The freedom to sometimes indulge in the luxuries I always denied myself.

My hands remind me of how I still build sandcastles, but that they are meant to be washed away for bigger ones. That dreams are always changing and expanding, that they NEED to be destroyed sometimes when they turn into nightmares. 

The spaces between my fingers still remind me of my loneliness, but also of long walks in new cities where two bodies moved not as one, but together. They remind me of messages I type and letters I write; gifts I create and photographs I collect to nurture something that is beautiful, even if I might have to let it go one day.

When I look at my hands now, I see growth and strength. An independence tinged with loss, but fortified with acceptance. 

The veins on the back of my hand don't stick out any more because I don't have to hold on to something that was always running away from me.

I look at my hands everyday and love what they signify. They remind me that I am enough.

It's Birthday Time!

Of course I didn't forget. I am just a little late with sending it across is all. 

Happy birthday, my love. 

Looks like this post breaks the incredible dry spell this poor blog has seen lately. An eight month dry spell. Which is an abysmal record even for me. 

But this post isn't about me. 

It's about a perfect collection of moments and events that ended with you and me becoming friends. An unlikely partnership to someone on the outside looking in. But we make it work. 

You are one of the few people I know I can come to with the small things and the big things. And you will be around to listen to both. Whether you agree or disagree or even understand, you listen and you care. To me, that matters more than anything else. 

Whether we ever have our long walks again or I ever get to make you special coffee, you and I will still have the conversations and the connection. The words and the memories. Our relationship has changed as we have. 

From our conversation on my birthday sitting outside college with me in a black dress you didn't believe I owned, to sending each other infrequent mails and frequent messages, we have come a long way. 

I do love you even though I don't say it as often as I should. And I am thankful you are part of my life in whatever way. 

Happy birthday again, my love. 

Sending love and hugs your way always.