Tinned Thoughts of Self Quarantine

Click, click, click. A white noise followed.

A tiny little petal of flame came to life.

Touching the lips of the rolled up tobacco leaves.

I took a puff and beautiful abstracts of smoke came out from my mouth.

The wind danced with the blender of air and smoke as I watch it being blown away.

They are one, now.

   I didn’t know losing a friend would have side effects. I haven’t spoken a word to her in 2 years. So much has changed. Sometimes I feel like cradling myself in a dark corner, shutting the whole world out of my system. It's a wrecking act, this self-quarantine thing. I used to make quotes that friends will back you up for life, but now I doubt that. Which is why I came to understand why my parents keep telling me that friends will not be there forever, they are just not built that way. I’d hate to say and admit it, but they’re right. I remember walking out of school and strangers from my school would come up to me and say hi. Just because they knew me, and highly likely that she’s walking with me. Those moments where I have no worries because I thought back then “She’s here. She’ll always be here.”

  “You’d be the first to get on my Volkswagen Beetle 1942 Classic.” I told her with glee while we look up the bare sky with the moon shining on our dark hair, legs out her window, burning cigarette in each of our hands. That could come true, that could be true again. Only if I let it. But I reckon things will ever be the same. Having treated like a used toy, picked up only when she felt like playing. Maybe that’s just her. Another side of her I never was aware about. She treated me like how these useless, vain men had treated her. I’m glad I never got that Beetle 1942 Classic. It would have been awkward to have her in my own car judging from the circumstances now. Looking at how broken we both are.  I would like to ask her, “Are you truly happy with your life? Without me?”. Because it would be noble enough not to cause storm on the other side of the country.

  There’s only a handful of mates that still kept in touch with me since our high school glory years. And they are mostly men. I guess it’s a sexist statement to say that women are such two-faced assholes when it comes to friendship. I’ve witnessed and felt it on my own. But then again, men are also in the same dilemma.

  So to that, I want to fix the wrong. Like all these wise bastards have said, forgive and forget. I’ve to remind myself to be as noble as I can, because deep in me I know I can never resist my own principals. 

I only hope my demons don’t get the best of me.