Hi, hello, hey. How are you doing?
I went through my old Dropbox account today and I had to delete a whole bunch of photos because I was going to lose them anyway if I didn’t upgrade my account. I went through them and I deleted them, one by one, but let me tell you something …
Heartstrings. Were. Tugged.
I’m currently going through a folder titled “Summer 2014″. I’m starting to wish I hadn’t looked. The summer of Jock and I. The summer of the big storms, in more ways than one. The coffee date we had in the historic town and *that* Instagram post that upset his ex so much she started a vicious argument with him via text message. The ripples of that argument spread far and wide, destroying any hopes we’d had of a romantic afternoon stroll/coffee and cake date. Our time together seemed so limited at that point, both of us working our asses off to afford a place together, so I hated it when her arguments ruined it. She did that day. Once again, she ruined our limited time together. He was a grumpy fuck, I kept asking him what was wrong and he kept telling me “nothing”.
I knew it was her. It was always her. She’d put him in a bad mood and it had ruined our date. Again.
It’s okay, it was only like, the hundredth time it’d happened.
Then I came across a photo of me and Jock on my bed. I’m pretty sure it was just after I moved into the house I shared with Bestie. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen those baby blues. For a brief spell, I almost missed them. I’m just being nostalgic, though. I don’t long for him now, not like I once did. Those silly faces he pulled, they sure did make me laugh. I guess, by the way I’m laughing, they still do — and probably still would.
I found photos of us laughing and joking, generally being fun and frivolous, like that night I wore the cute black and white dress he loved so much. It should’ve been the best night out, but I ruined it. Someone said something, I said something in rebuttal, and that started it all. The cunt-fest. A series of c-bombs that just fell out of my mouth because I’d decided I hates everything and everyone after one too many glasses of fizzy pop.
I’m so glad I don’t drink now.
For the record, it’s been 10 months. I haven’t had a single drink in 10 months, but I’m not celebrating. I was never an alcoholic or anything like that. But I think being sober for that long *IS* something to celebrate. It was definitely the smartest decision I ever made.
See, I HAVE grown up!
Different photos now from the same album, this time it’s Bestie and me on a walk home from work. He was off that day but it was beautifully sunny and he was bored, so he came down to meet me from work. I’m pretty sure we went for coffee, then we had the most wonderful, sticky walk home. As we crossed the big field we rolled down the hills, recording ourselves as we did so because we’re bloody idiots and being covered in freshly-cut grass just seemed like the funniest thing in the world. The way our friendship has gone downhill is an utter fucking travesty.
These photos are making me a little sad. Summer 2014 was a really good one for me. Where did it all go wrong? Not wrong, that’s the wrong word; I wouldn’t give up my position right now for anything in the world. I love my Bear, I love us, I love how happy and content I am right now. But I still miss Bestie sometimes. Maybe even Jock too? Just sometimes. At least I can look back over our time together and smile now. It no longer hurts my heart like it once did.
More photos of Bestie and I hanging out now, plus my sister and I chilling. What happened to my social life? I don’t do any of those things now. Did anxiety take over my life so much, it literally stopped it in its tracks? Why don’t I do these things anymore? Why don’t I go and sit in the sun, loving the fact I don’t have a 9-5 job like I used to? Why don’t I sit in the sun at all?
It looked like I had the time of my life in “Summer 2014”. Perhaps I did? I think maybe I’ve been sitting at home and working for too long, waiting for the next guy to screw me over. It’s funny how they’ve all had a funny way of doing that. Although, in Bestie’s defence, at least it took him 15 years. Perhaps he just got pissed off with me never putting out? Perhaps he started to realise it was never going to happen? Meh, I’m just being bitter now, that’s not the point of this exercise.
I don’t actually know what the point of this exercise was, I just know that something tugged on my heartstrings when I was going through that photo album, “Summer 2014”. I felt happy, sad too, but mostly happy. I’m glad I had those memories with those people, even though those people are no longer in my life. I’m glad they were there. I’m glad Bestie and I had the best of friendships for as long as we did, and maybe someday we can salvage something from that. I’m also glad that Jock and I had those fun times that we did.
I think I need to re-start my life again too. I’m happy with Bear, but I’m still not doing things. I’m not going out there and facing my fears. I didn’t go to that Expo I wanted to go to. Or the tattoo convention. I haven’t done that for a very long time. My anxiety wins every time I try to make plans and I end up not doing them, using work as my excuse to get out of it. It’s been going on for so long that I’m starting to feel like working 24/7 is actually normal. It’s not. I know it’s not, and I know Bear’s starting to get pissed off about it. If not pissed off, a tad concerned. I guess I just work as an excuse to get out of social activities, but I can’t do that for the entire summer. My “Summer 2015” and “Summer 2016” albums are considerably smaller in size. My “Summer 2017” can’t be.
I’m starting to crave adventure again. But what? What’s next?
Oh, Summer 2014, thanks for the memories. Thanks for the kick up the ass!