I've been watching Anne with an E (Anne of Green Gables) on Netflix and I want to be her. She's so brave. So outdoorsy, running around in fields, and just happy all the time doing her own thing. She's a good daughter to her adoptive parents, a solid friend, the brightest student, admired by the other brightest student who is also handsome. She's naturally open-minded and good-natured and modern. And she has her best friend. Of course I want to be her.
I miss the friendships I had during my school days. I miss how we were young, we loved each other so much. We would go places together. We were going through the same things: figuring out who we are, what we believed, what we were going to do. Our every step in the world was so new and fresh and invigorating. I remember making money for the first time, liking each other, being liked, being accepted, being rejected (well, not so much missing that part).
Did I slip away, or did they slip away? Everyone moved for their careers or their husbands. School no longer brought us together after we graduated. Getting together started becoming an effort. People started working full-time, only available on Sundays to hang out, if their Sundays weren't occupied by other demands already.
This is just the nature of things, perhaps. How can a person be 30 and have a toddler and a husband and still have the kinds of frienships that they had in their youth? Maybe I'm not opening myself up enough, not allowing anyone in. Moving to a different country doesn't help. But, like Anne, I should be brave. I should be optimistic about what each new day will bring. (I know what it will bring: more cleaning and cooking and the usual nonsense, more staying home afraid of the coronavirus. But no, there are still possibilities). There are possibilities. Fizzah thinks of new things to do. I can be brave, too.
I miss the friendships I had during my school days. I miss how we were young, we loved each other so much. We would go places together. We were going through the same things: figuring out who we are, what we believed, what we were going to do. Our every step in the world was so new and fresh and invigorating. I remember making money for the first time, liking each other, being liked, being accepted, being rejected (well, not so much missing that part).
Did I slip away, or did they slip away? Everyone moved for their careers or their husbands. School no longer brought us together after we graduated. Getting together started becoming an effort. People started working full-time, only available on Sundays to hang out, if their Sundays weren't occupied by other demands already.
This is just the nature of things, perhaps. How can a person be 30 and have a toddler and a husband and still have the kinds of frienships that they had in their youth? Maybe I'm not opening myself up enough, not allowing anyone in. Moving to a different country doesn't help. But, like Anne, I should be brave. I should be optimistic about what each new day will bring. (I know what it will bring: more cleaning and cooking and the usual nonsense, more staying home afraid of the coronavirus. But no, there are still possibilities). There are possibilities. Fizzah thinks of new things to do. I can be brave, too.
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