Blasts from the past.
An old friend of mine dropped by this afternoon for a visit . . . and only just left.
It was a strange, almost surreal evening, despite the fact that we never ran out of things to say -- the way one often does with a grown-distant friend.
I mean, it was nice to catch up and everything, but I found myself thinking so much of the time, "This just doesn't feel real."
He's come a long way, character-wise, since I was seventeen and halfway in love with him. Hell, I've come a long way myself. You wouldn't know it now to listen to me, but I was *so* timid and shy in high school . . . I don't even recognize the person I used to be.
Roy was the skinny kid who wanted to be tough, so he took karate and learned to kick ass -- and hasn't ever used it.
Me? I've been in more fistfights than I can count, in the last ten years or so.
Roy's much more settled, centered somehow. He seems to have made his peace with a lot of things, including himself.
I'm getting there. I can't say I'm completely happy with myself, but then again . . . I've admitted that I'm a work in progress.
Thirty-four isn't such a bad age to be figuring things out.
So I don't know if it's just that it's been so long since we've talked that I've completely lost my sense of connection to Roy, or whether we've both changed so much that we can no longer be friends and will just drift apart. The crush is long gone, and I don't miss it; it's not like I'm harboring unfulfilled hopes.
Maybe it's only that we're different people now and we have to get to know each other all over again. After all, it's been more than five years since we've even spoken or written letters, let alone visited. Our lives and loves and dreams have changed. In some ways we have more in common; in other ways, less. I guess it will just take time.
Well, he's stationed here for six months. I'm sure that even we two, notorious Gemini procrastinators that we are, can manage a few more visits during a half-year's span of time.
So now, of course, I am wide awake when I should be sleepy, and I left my anti-depressants ( which act well as a sleeping aid ) upstairs. I don't feel like crawling up the steps on my butt just to grab a Lexapro. I tried to hook up the VCR so that I could watch "Bend It Like Beckham" before it has to be returned to Blockbuster tomorrow, but for some reason I can't get the fucking connection to thread properly. And now my fingers hurt from trying.
When I rule the world, VCRs and other such equipment will simply plug into the necessary jacks. None of this male-female coupler junk.
Meh. Off to read fic. Not like that will do anything except make me hot and bothered, but maybe it will lead to happy dreams.
It was a strange, almost surreal evening, despite the fact that we never ran out of things to say -- the way one often does with a grown-distant friend.
I mean, it was nice to catch up and everything, but I found myself thinking so much of the time, "This just doesn't feel real."
He's come a long way, character-wise, since I was seventeen and halfway in love with him. Hell, I've come a long way myself. You wouldn't know it now to listen to me, but I was *so* timid and shy in high school . . . I don't even recognize the person I used to be.
Roy was the skinny kid who wanted to be tough, so he took karate and learned to kick ass -- and hasn't ever used it.
Me? I've been in more fistfights than I can count, in the last ten years or so.
Roy's much more settled, centered somehow. He seems to have made his peace with a lot of things, including himself.
I'm getting there. I can't say I'm completely happy with myself, but then again . . . I've admitted that I'm a work in progress.
Thirty-four isn't such a bad age to be figuring things out.
So I don't know if it's just that it's been so long since we've talked that I've completely lost my sense of connection to Roy, or whether we've both changed so much that we can no longer be friends and will just drift apart. The crush is long gone, and I don't miss it; it's not like I'm harboring unfulfilled hopes.
Maybe it's only that we're different people now and we have to get to know each other all over again. After all, it's been more than five years since we've even spoken or written letters, let alone visited. Our lives and loves and dreams have changed. In some ways we have more in common; in other ways, less. I guess it will just take time.
Well, he's stationed here for six months. I'm sure that even we two, notorious Gemini procrastinators that we are, can manage a few more visits during a half-year's span of time.
So now, of course, I am wide awake when I should be sleepy, and I left my anti-depressants ( which act well as a sleeping aid ) upstairs. I don't feel like crawling up the steps on my butt just to grab a Lexapro. I tried to hook up the VCR so that I could watch "Bend It Like Beckham" before it has to be returned to Blockbuster tomorrow, but for some reason I can't get the fucking connection to thread properly. And now my fingers hurt from trying.
When I rule the world, VCRs and other such equipment will simply plug into the necessary jacks. None of this male-female coupler junk.
Meh. Off to read fic. Not like that will do anything except make me hot and bothered, but maybe it will lead to happy dreams.