Picture by Jenny Audring
I’ve been flipping through my old diaries and thought of you. All those endless words, poems and prayers for you, about you, with you. I realize after so long, I still miss you.
How’ve you been? It’s been a long time since I asked you that, and I long for your reply. Last I heard from you was last year on the 26th of June. I sent you a birthday wish, and I tried to keep it simple because it’s been a while and I’m not sure you’d still remember me. You just sent back a simple thank you with a simple smiley face. Guess we’re at the level of simple smileys now… it was so different from the days when you’d hug me when I felt sad, and you didn’t mind my late night calls to tell you all the so-called woes of a 16-year-old’s life. I cried when I failed my first exam since kindergarten, and you, being such a good friend and a rather smart girl, agreed to tutor me the very next day. You’re so friendly, Noelle. No wonder everyone loved you.
All my friends loved to be with you, Noelle, until I was filled with envy whenever I saw you and them having a good time. You told me yourself that you liked people who were bubbly and fun. Many of my friends are like that. I wasn’t. In fact, no matter how much I think I’m grown up now, I still like to curl up in my bed and read a good book or listen to good music than be social like other people. Yes, I don’t shy away from social gatherings, and I don’t hide in the bathroom and cry so that you’ll comfort me for a few moments while all the others were having a good time. I fade into the crowd easily, Noelle. You know that.
Noelle, I feel like I am the most manipulative person that has ever walked down the streets of our little town. We had good food and long talks. I’d love it when we had long journeys together, with no other noisy person to drown my voice away. I wanted you to talk to me, listen to me, hug me, love me, tell me that I’m somebody to you. As if you didn’t have your own friends. I knew that I should let you live your more mature and glamorous life, and not worry about being in the hall for you, every Saturday at 6 when you’d call me and ask me how my week had been.
Why are you so perfect, Noelle? I memorized you more than I memorize for school exams. You love the colour blue, you’re an extrovert, you love children, you have dimples on your face, and you lived at the little intermediate unit with the sapphire blue roof and the black arched automatic gate at 62 Hope Avenue. I still remember the registration number of the car parked opposite your house for goodness sake. Then, if someone quizzed me on you, I’d pass with flying colors, or so I thought. Shouldn’t there be more important things to remember than this?
I can’t forget you, Noelle. Why are you so nice? Why did you attempt to befriend a rather antisocial girl that you saw sitting on the stairway one day? Aren’t there any more interesting people around you for you to have to notice me? I mean, don’t look at all the other things – we had friends by the names Violet, Evelyn, Beatrice, and Anastasia, Pierre, Noah and Cedric – I’ve envied their names from the moment I knew them. And somehow you still have a place for plain ol’ Jamie. Even Jaymee or Jaime would have been better, I think.
I’m selfish, Noelle. Ever since you loved me I wanted it to never end. I always wanted what I’ve been striving to get since the day I was born – attention. I want to be seen, to be someone loved. So I polished you up nicely and put you in my display cabinet. You were the most prestigious award, the shiniest trophy that I had to win. And all my sociable friends won all the time.
One day when I was at the crossroads, you left without saying a word. Away from our little town, away from the familiar faces, and away from my life.
I hate you, Noelle. Why can’t you stay? Why can’t good times last? When I have such a perfect friend like you, I felt like I’m on cloud nine. Yet I felt undeserving of you. I tried to tell you that I love you, but you either don’t get it or knowingly not say too much.
Fast forward to the present, and I’ve moved on, Noelle. There were people that supported me like no other; I only knew of them after you left. Why was I so blind? Noelle, it saddened me, but I think I’m finally realizing that you ain’t perfect. You need love just like me; you want to be seen and appreciated just like me, and you make mistakes just like me. And worse of all, I realized that I didn’t really love you, Noelle. I just loved what you can give, and now I cringe to think how many times I’ve hurt you with my words, my actions, my immaturity.
Oh, how I wish I could turn back time, to the day I first met you, and when I was still young and carefree. To restart a healthy friendship with you and add meaning to it all. Erase the days I’ve wasted when I got addicted to you like some sickly person and not a teenager. Treat you like a friend. How is it you know my joys and hurts but I don’t know yours? How I wish I could have known you – not mere memories but knowing you like a fellow traveler on this bumpy road we walk on called life. Your joys, your sadness, your good times and bad times. Even now I dream that I see you again – at my office, on the street, at the mall, in your car, and that we could just grab a cup of coffee and talk. I long that I could know you again, Noelle, but I’m afraid for now it’s too late.
I can only live with memories of you, Noelle. A lesson to me on how I should treat my future friends, cherishing many and talking to you with no artificial walls set up to make me look good in your eyes. I got sick of pretending to be someone so that people will like me, Noelle.
I wish you happiness, Noelle. May that little town you live in be a peaceful haven for you – whether in your career, relationships, and in your life experiences. May you find good friends and the opportunity to live life to the max, leaving the past behind. I hope you’re happy. I don’t hug people anymore after you left; but now I’m seriously reconsidering it. After all, your friendship is a legacy in my life.
Your old friend, Jamie
P.S. Jamie’s a really nice name.
CelineD was daydreaming. Or did she fall asleep?