“Every good party has to end”. But it sucks.

I am unsure how to start this blog, honestly. As I shared with you all before in one of responding to daily prompt of Daily Post WordPress, I used writing for containing my thoughts. That is one reason for me to start this blog post, but somehow my thoughts and feelings are going out all over a glass, I am still unsure how to wrap them all into words here.

Two of my best friends were here for the last week. I knew about this trip already when I left Finland, moving to France. And I think I am passing through the phase of adrenalin drying out.

It has also been more than a month I have been living in France. But everything passed by as if days have not been counted. I had my ups and downs, which is normal to each of us but amazingly good for me, because there are ups moments. Even so, the downs tick-tock still has its weights. I could sense myself withdrawing into my own sensitive shell. I could see myself being afraid to be against a big world out there, including my own family and friends, who do not understand me. Maybe there is no “being against” after all, you know. Then again, even knowing so does not prevent from failing in those battles, I fail to be in control of my thoughts. At the end of the day, it was just me being bitter at my own feelings and me sitting at the corner of the room dried out from exhaustion.

So, I was glad they came. I just didn’t think I would be so sad when they left, as something were taken away from me again. Over the past month, I suppose my accustom or effort of being on my own somehow works out well. I grew slowly another forgetfulness. I forgot how much I also enjoy being around my friends, all the laughter and joy besides the sorrow they might remind of, even though they have nothing to do with the cause, they were just there. Their presence here first felt awkward, the same tone of emotion when I started this post. I had stuff to say, but not sure where to address and how or if they would like to hear. Such awkwardness lasted for more than an hour, I would say, in Nice.

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The big main square in Nice, which I can only assume placed at the center of this city. Nice was nice, my trip was too short for me to describe just yet about it. Maybe another time…

Then, we had a dinner, and things took off. Dirty version of conversations and common thoughts, all the things you can only feel most comfortable to talk with people you love. A tune of excitement started to rise up inside me, as my friend said “There is a reason why we became closed friends“. Yes, we have been closed friends, we have been through ups and downs, they have witnessed me changing from one person to another person whom they might not even realise, and yet they still stay even though wall of distance appear naturally (or healthily?). I forgot, you know.

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Those are the two. I thought of keeping them anonymous, but well, why?

You look good. You look tanned. But this Mediterranean looks suits you“, she told me over the dinner. I smiled because I think so, too. I was glad that somebody also saw it, my improvement from my ability of holding onto the “ups” moments. It could be little desperation of approval, but at least the comment made me be certain of my decision to drop everything, drop friends and flee to a place, in which I hope to find my certainty (?). A question mark is there since I yet figured out what exactly I was looking for. Or it could be as my friend said, “you do know, you are just afraid to admit yet“.

Dinner led to a spontaneous going-out night. It was fun, and if this can make it more clear or whatsoever, it was literally fun. So fun that I woke up next day, in the same hostel room with them, opening my hangover eyes on a strange bed and couldn’t help wondering why I did what I did. The following hours, and the journey turning back to Mandelieu (they would come there later) were weird. I felt ashamed.

But what for, really?

I woke up next to people I see almost to my family, it could have been worse. I did not do anything reckless, as some other times. I simply loosened up, and allowed the joy bubble sucking me in. But I felt ashamed. I had not been socialising that much for the last month. Maybe, it was the alien feeling then. I hoped so.

When they arrived at Mandelieu, my thoughts were forced to stop. I needed to be a host. I lied on the bed that night with my friends, and the awkward vibe was lying in between us again. I kept wondering why, when I was brought back to many times before when we were so closed, and talked so deeply into lives we would never be control of. Next days passed by more easily. I was opening up again, if those were right words to describe. I talked, shared a bit, laughed, sometimes stayed quiet for resting my head from the unnecessary thinkings. Most importantly, I let myself being driven back to my life I flee from, my Jyvaskyla. In the last night they were here, I and my friend took an evening walk, towards those deep convos we used to have. There were moments we opposed to each other. I couldn’t understand why she said what she said, and most importantly, I couldn’t understand why I could not see what she saw. I was not furious, but I did think of withdrawing again. I was glad she didn’t let me. The ending note was reached by our agreement of “not trying to make sense of everything“.

I agreed of “not being so hard on myself, and not running, and that I have done more than I can see“. And she agreed of “being so judgmental sometimes, she couldn’t embrace the differences, and that she was not perfect herself either, but she wanted to help“. So maybe I have indeed changed, or I have not yet let go of 1000 layers of emotions, or we are reaching a point where two closed friends start to drift apart in their world’s perspectives; I still felt wholly being there next to her. I forgot, you know, that everyone needs people.

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Our last time on Mandalieu beach

 

They left yesterday. Hearing their steps echoing in the wind, I wanted to cry. I know I would miss them for the next few days. I know I would tend to clean, to busy my mind out of such emptiness. Most of all, I know that I was a bit scared of loneliness, and my inability to fight inner battles alone again.

Starting of this post is difficult, as well as the reason to have it here instead of my personal journal. I got interrupted in this point here to go seeing a concert. I became a thinker again flowing within the music of Edith Piaf. I kept wondering why. It might have been that time was not enough. One week sounded enough for a holiday but it was not enough for me to share with them. I had trucks carrying loads of things and if I have to unload somewhere, there should only be while with them. It also might have been I like hanging around with people and not good being alone or strong as I wish I am.

So, when I came home an hour ago, watched Friends (as usual), the episode of “The one with George Stephanapoulos“, a bell was ringing in my head. These friends are my Magic Beans (if you are Friends’ fan, you will know what I mean; if you are not a fan, I am sure you might know the show and the episode anyway). And I would be so damned one day if I let them pass away now. At least, I would like to believe they would still be there.

I guess, behind all those imperfect words and long expressions, I just hope your reading this helps you see, it is okay to need people. I have been told, taught and reminded continuously, human beings are created for connections—a connection we should embrace, instead of blurring it. It does taste bad, the flavour of being misunderstood or being judged on; but I can see now it does not taste much better, the flavour of loneliness when you need [magic beans] the most.

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