Listening to James Morrison’s velvety chocolate voice washing over me, it evokes feelings of melancholy. Hm, melancholic Melody, c’est moi. Especially this one song, a song so sad and wistful, and true—because sometimes things or people that you love so much outgrow you, or vice versa. And it hurts like a mofo acknowledging this.

It’s been something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately, how people change, and how friendships can get icky because one party cannot get used to the idea of their friend changing.

You know those last few episodes of Sex And The City, before Carrie followed her Russian to Paris? The scene where she and Miranda went off at each other? The fear and worry Miranda had for Carrie, wondering if she was doing the right thing, and Carrie’s own issues with the ceaseless questions that were no longer hers. The frustrations both felt; one wanting what was best for her nearest and dearest, the other wanting a chance to live her own life without answering to anyone elses’ questions.

Carrie accused Miranda of not wanting her to grow, in not too many words—as long as Carrie remained the same way Miranda knew her, it was like nothing would ever change; their friendship would remain evergreen. And obviously Miranda was hurt—those sorts of razor-sharp words from a person she cared so much about must’ve cut deep.

But enough fiction, back to fact.

Our bodies stretch and shrink to accomodate our fluctuating body weight. Similarly, some friendships stretch and shrink to accomodate changing personalities and life choices. Others, especially ones that care too much I reckon, are the ones that bring about these issues the most, because they find it hardest to stretch and shrink.

Some friendships have reached comfort levels that require no verbalisation—it is a sense of comradeship and understanding that transcends language and formalities. It’s like a pair of faithful comfortable old jeans—worn-in, loved-in, perfect for everyday use, comfortable, comforting, and will always make you look good. But sometimes, other occassions require the use of other apparel, and sometimes, just sometimes, the style or fit of your fave old pair of jeans doesn’t fit like it used to.

The pieces don’t fit anymore.

Of course, though, all these are figures of speech—I think friendships are clearly more than all this.

There’s the inevitable guilt, of course, initially, and the reluctance to let go. But I suppose at some point realisation dawns that while it hurts both parties that things were not what they used to be, nothing can ever change the past, and that that shared past will always remain in your hearts as glorious remembrances—because in all relationships, after the hurt has passed, I think we mostly choose to remember the good times.

In my short 21 years I reckon I’ve been blessed with many people who’ve touched my heart and changed me in so many ways. The primary school friends who indulged my girlish fantasies and thrills, whom I spent many hours giggling with over boys and pop groups; the secondary school friends, my Dahlings, who’ve been there for me through thick and thin; the nonsensical uni mates who make classes that much more fun to attend and who continually amaze me with their talents and unexpected pearls of wisdom.

And of course, the ex-boyfriends…haha oh man cos there have been not to say so many, but each of them have been a blessing to me, teaching me more about myself and my overwhelming capacity to fall in love so madly and deeply. True, some have been downright bastards (haha!) but still remain my close friends (emphasis on the plural–two of them in particular!), others I only say hello to once in a blue moon, one whom I hurt very much and very very badly who I suppose will never speak to me again…*sigh*

I wonder why we tend to mourn lost dating-type relationships more than friend-type ones? Is it because of the intensity and depth of emotion? Because I think at the end of the day the friend-type relationships that fade away are even sadder than that of the other kind. Because your friends were the ones who were there for you to let all of your guard down and open up all of your heart to–because not always are we entirely honest in dating-type relationships.

A wise person said that the only certain thing about life is its uncertainty. People inevitably change, they evolve, and arguably, they mutate, even. And while it may be a sad thing watching someone you love so much change so drastically, though it also hurts, it needs to be said that things hardly ever turn out the way we want them to; likewise, the people we love hardly ever become who we want them to be.

We hardly ever become who we want to be.

And sometimes, we need to ask—is this a bad thing? Is it so bad to not live life according to a blueprint?

Because, I’m sorry—I cannot live life according to what others have planned out for me. I need to find my own path and make my own history, no matter how stupid or illogical or grandiose or unattainable as it seems.

Raaaaaah This is such a sad post. I have no idea why I’m so mopey. Perhaps it’s got to do with the fact that I’ve been playing this same James Morrison song for the past half hour.

While I wish sometimes things didn’t have to change, I cannot imagine life without change. I guess I just have to accept that no matter how much I abhor the idea of certain changes, it is only a matter of time before I am engulfed in its viscuous, fluid, seductive grasp.

Sighs.