To Slam Books and Old Friends

Today I found my old slam book. Yes, one of those things which you pass around to your friends for them to fill up and you swear never to show other people. Some of its pages were full to the brim, some were left empty except the names of people whose deepest, darkest secrets at twelve years of age were supposed to be right there on those pages. A few of these very special people from back then are still in regular contact with me, some are connected only on Instagram and in my contact list. Others have been long lost, even from my memory. Funny how time works on friendships.

One of these friends used to be one of whom I categorised as my best friends back in the day. She is one of the handful of people I have cried in front of, and I remember her quite well. I even remember why I cried that day, and now that I think of it, it seems laughable yet so terribly serious for a twelve-year-old. Anyway, as I said, I remember her quite well. Her father had a transferable government job back then, probably still does now, and because of that she was only physically present in my life for two or three years, not exactly sure. After that her father got transferred again so we exchanged phone numbers on chits of paper, the old-fashioned way. Neither of us had a mobile phone to store those numbers, so when her father got transferred again she lost mine and I never got her new one. I sometimes wonder where she is these days, and whether she misses me. The good thing is I smile every time I think of her. Very few friends are such that stay in your memory like this: if you ever meet them again, you’ll probably end up becoming the closest of friends once more.

Now that I’ve finished that paragraph, I’ve written and deleted another one a few times. All I can think about is nothing. Nothing at all. I am trying to bring up memories of friends, from the slam book and otherwise, all from back in school before we got separated by our choices and their consequences. It seems my brain will only let those out when I get away from the screen, away from any means which breaks the surety that my thoughts and memories will stay with me, unseen by others, unheard by others, and I don’t yet understand why. Maybe a few years down the line when my further study in Psychology will help me unravel the secrets of my mind I’ll get it, maybe I’ll get it someday when I’m doing nothing but staring at the night sky from my window. This is not the first time I’m struggling to consciously remember things about my past friends and it probably isn’t the last time...but I guess what really matters is that even though I can’t pull them out right now, when the time comes, I always have the most detailed, strongest, sweetest memories of all.

So my dear friends who haven’t been in contact since long, if you’re reading this, I think of you. Not all the time, not in detail, but very, very fondly. I hope to see you and catch up with you sometime in the future when we have lots and lots of stories to share and listen, or if possible, even in the near future so we can reach that faraway time in each others’ company.

Love,

Me.