The world needs more long weekends
I just had a long weekend. The Queen’s birthday public holiday was on Monday, which means I only have four days at work this week, which means that I’m already nearly halfway through the week, which means I should, in all honesty, not be complaining. But something is dragging me down, and I’m not sure what.
It was definitely not The Fault in Our Stars movie messing with my feelings; and it most certainly was not the recent departure of my cousin Ricky, who had been living with us for almost a year, only to return back to his home country; it was certainly not the fact that seeing one of my best friends cry pretty much broke my heart (ouch… hmm, yeah that stuff hurts); it was most definitely not my disappointment from buying a vegetarian noodle soup with vegetarian dumplings only to realise after eating half the noodles that the dumplings had meat (ugh).
So what drags you down, really? It’s not the lack of breakfast or having too much tea, it’s not really that I’m bored, or lacking excitement. Sometimes you just don’t know. And I think that is what I’m most afraid of – not knowing why.
There are four post-it notes on my wall:
- Be ruthless. –Seb H
- BE AWESOME. Always.
- fight the good fight. –Jeremy Neale
- You will be ok –Tristan W
But no matter what people tell you to be, or how you tell yourself to be, sadness and pain is inevitable.
Seeing one of my friends upset makes me upset.
I used to believe in telekinesis.
I used to think that I could will someone to call me just by sitting by my phone and entering their mind, asking them to call my phone, and the phone would ring. I used to think that I would have really awesome connections with people and we could do the same thing without physically talking to each other. Lilian and I used to call ourselves twins because we would finish each other’s sentences.
It’s totally not telekinesis though.
Nor is it magic. But I sometimes believe that magic has a part in everything.
I suppose it’s a little bit symbiotic?
Sure, empathy is one thing. But symbiosis is part incredible, part wondrous, and I suppose one percent magic. Sometimes, I don’t want to say I like someone, or love them, or care a lot about them, because it borders on soppy, and I’m telling you – when I talk soppy, I might cry a bit. So if I am allowed to use the word symbiosis, and you are permitted to laugh at me, then I will use it.
Because I don’t want an emotion-infested, feeling-defined explanation as to why I cry when I see a friend cry.
Because like Tristan said, feelings are exhausting.