Recrudescence, Romanticism and then Reality.

In the hopes of finding a suitable inspiration for this writing challenge, I revisited some of my writings from when I was fifteen. Needless to say, I cringed. But amongst the numerous humiliating pieces, I found one that conjured vivid memories and got me thinking.


We Don’t Get To Judge

28 September 2008

She rested her head on my shoulder as she poured her lungs out.
She opened her heart to me, revealing the truths; uncovering the lies.
All I could do was plaster on a rueful look.
She could have been thinking it was mere sympathy.
But trust me, it was empathy.

***

While sitting at the bus stop, she told me the reason for the divorce.
Something we had in common.
She shared something no one would want to hear; something too personal to be told.
Her sombre words might have been crushing, but she did not cry.
I always revered her for that audaciousness.

***

For the third time in my life, i was exposed to someone else’s melancholy.
She sat diagonally across me, spitting out words she had withheld for too long.
This time, I was not a mere listener
Because I opened…
I vocalised my story, the one that i had retained far too long myself.

But at the end of the day,
I don’t know you, like you do
&
You don’t know me, like I do.


Please don’t be too harsh on fifteen-year-old me. Trust me, this was one of the better ones. When I feel like embarrassing myself further, I’ll post a really cringe-worthy one in the future.

On a serious note, this piece got me thinking about these 3 ladies who played a significant role in my life at the respective point in time. What was it that led us astray; so distant? The only contact I have with them now is Facebook. Even then, we haven’t interacted in years. What happened? I guess we just don’t see it coming. Perhaps it’s circumstances; different institutions; or different life trajectories.

And then I realised that I probably wouldn’t want to actually reconnect with them. I wouldn’t want to have a ‘second chance’ with our friendship. I believe that most connections do tend to inherently come to term after running its course. And then they become cherished memories – perfect for romanticising; but terrible for recreating.

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21 thoughts on “Recrudescence, Romanticism and then Reality.

    • Thank you Mara! Your comment really got me thinking. I even had to pen down some thoughts about maturity (though I think it might just be disillusionment). Perhaps I might even write a post about it when I come back from my holiday trip next week. hmmm…. Thanks for the inspiring me! 🙂

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      • I guess maturity is very much about disillusionment. I’m flattered to inspire you to jot down some thoughts — I’d certainly love to hear more in a future post! Enjoy your holiday! 😎

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      • Maturity, I feel, is entirely down to what someone else thinks. You can think of yourself mature, or immature, but it’s likely that someone else will be able to tell otherwise. So, yeah, I feel maturity is entirely disillusionment. 😀

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      • This is not what I meant — so I entirely welcome your perspective! Agreed, the opinions of others about yourself is a quite a different thing than what you think.

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      • I just leap into conversations without really knowing what’s going on. Glad you appreciated it though! I’ve dealt with the word “maturity” a lot in the past year (getting involved in communities with people of different ages) and that’s just what I feel about it now. People can think they’re being mature, but to someone else they may not be – likewise, people can believe that something someone writes sounds mature, when in reality the person writing it felt immature for writing it. 9 times out of 10 you can’t perceive your own maturity correctly, I feel.

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  1. You should read the novel I wrote when I was 15. It’s my pride and joy, simply because it’s 100,000 words of prose I haven’t been able to match since, but hell is it cringy. I tried to convince myself at the time that it wasn’t a Twilight rip-off, but it so is. There’s one small problem, though, and that’s that the characters in the novel are still the ones that I care about the most. There are some things you write when you’re younger that end up meaning more to you than the rushed out, commercialised, possibly lacking-in-emotion stuff you write for your blog or your career. You wrote this story for yourself, or for the people you’re depicting, and that’s why it’s a pleasure to read. 🙂

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    • I agree with you on this entirely. No matter how much we denigrate our older writings, they still have a special place in our hearts. And you were spot on about maturity and disillusionment as well. 🙂

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  2. G’day K.R.
    I can see by the above that your talent was very evident at fifteen, I enjoyed then immensely
    I personally cant understand why you would cringe at your early writing, to me it is the beginning of the literary skills that continually improve the more one practices, the same as when we ate with a spoon as a toddler, progressing to knife and fork.

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    • Hello Muzzy,

      Thank you for the kind words. Yes, I agree they act as a really wonderful source of reflection on how much I have grown. I guess it’s because these writings evoke the feelings I had when I was fifteen, and I still can’t fathom the thought of having once thought that way. If that makes any sense at all.

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  3. Julie says:

    It’s beautiful, K.R. 🙂 Just one thing I disagree on, even not entirely: some friendships *are* worth a second chance and develop to be something else entirely. The only thing definitely doomed from the beginning is to try and recreate something exactly the way it was: because we are not the persons we were when we were fifteen and this is a good thing.

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    • Thanks Julie. You do have a valid point. It is indeed a terrible idea to want to relive the experiences all over again. Perhaps I am a little socially awkward, but I find it so hard to reconnect with people from my past (seeking for a second chance). I guess the only way possible with me is by serendipitously meeting them in a different circumstance.

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  4. One of the definitions of “mature” is ripe, reaching some desired or final condition. Like this summer’s peaches followed by pumpkins in Fall. So, who’s to say what should or shouldn’t be at fifteen, you were ripe enuf to write! Or whatever. Mozart was at least one up on you! So, what’s next?

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