It’s not real, any of what we have in our 20s, it is fleeting, a whiff, a mirage thrown in front of our faces to lull us into a false sense of security. Then it is removed, whatever ‘it’ is, is taken away from of us for the delight of some higher power I can never understand. The things we love in our 20s now to me seem fickle and if I could give this “fickleness” a name there is only one I’d use.
I would not use his name because I feel he will define my 20s but because he is the thing I loved that is fickle. And, like these early years of my 20s, he will soon be nothing but a memory I may one day yearn to be resurrected.
WOW! That was morbid. I’m feeling morbid today and here’s why:
It has been perfection, or as close to perfection as I consider natural. Its been laughs and tears and I’ve loved it. But, as I am learning through these turbulent times perfection does not last. Only a few days ago my brother ended his short-term relationship with his wife and is now, once again and rather unexpectedly single.
But, with Liam and I there have been no troubles, smooth sailing, maybe too smooth I suppose I should have been expecting a storm. It was 9pm and we were a bed. I’ve come to be so comfortable in his bed. It was his space but he’d made it mine also. There, laying on his chest I sat listening to all his plans. He was apparently done with music, music was no longer where it was at. He’d said something like that to me once before years ago, the first time around. He told me he was done with art and hasn’t picked up a paint brush since.
Now he was done with music. “Ok” I thought to myself, “what’s your next obsession?”.
Now what I’m about to tell you may come across in a calm way but I feel the need to clarify that I was in no way calm when it happened.
“So what’s next? What’s your plan?” I asked looking in an excited child-like manner.
He didn’t look at me. In fact at no point in this conversation did we have eye contact. This was unusual for him, he was the kind of guy who believed you could only really understand someone through eye contact, eye’s tell the souls truths but he didn’t look at me.
“Well, I already know what I’m going to do. In fact I cemented the plan today. I dropped £600 into it” he said.
At this point I didn’t realise what he was about to say so I began making jokes in my head. What on earth has he dropped £600 on? A house for us to live in? A crazy business venture?
“On what I asked” waiting curiously for the answer. And then he told me. He told me very simply. He told me in the kind of way I’d expect him to.
“I’m leaving next week. I bought a ticket to Thailand I’m going to travel again for the next year or so”.
I can’t exactly tell you what I felt in this moment, shock really wouldn’t cover it. Shock could hardly describe it. All I know is I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t think.
I chose not to ask questions. There was no point. I wanted to yell at him but how could I yell at a lost soul trying to find himself? On the other hand, how could I not yell at someone who hadn’t considered me? I also wanted to cry, I wanted to cry for the time and feelings that I had consciously poured out of myself and into this relationship but I didn’t.
What I did next was use a skill that I have come to realise I need to master well should life continue on this perfectionless route. I grabbed the emotions that were beginning to pour from my eyes, I grabbed the words that were forming at my tongue, I pulled my heart from his tightly clenched fists and shoved them all down my throat. I swallowed them all and as they passed into my aching stomach, I responded without them.
“Great!” I said. Nothing more. Did he expect more? Why had I expected more? This was him, gone with the wind.
Without gifting him another word I left his bed and walked to the grotty roof of his apartment. I sat there alone and let myself feel what I needed to feel. I sat there for hours and he let me.
Of course he did.
The 20 Somethings 