on hiatus, change, grief

note: this post was originally from our stillness, a now defunct blogging project.

This break is taking a bit longer than I’d like. Emails and emails of “Unfortunately, we’re moving on with someone else” and “We hope you continue to keep in touch” have forced me to sit with myself in the uncomfortable and humiliating silence of my one-bedroom apartment—one that we’ve been trying to get out of since May.

I’ve begun to manufacture my own growth to compensate for the lack of actual movement in my life. I finally got the tattoo I’ve been waiting for since I was 19, thanks to this surplus of free time giving me nothing much else to do but draft a design. It’s an adaptation of the 1981 animated film Deer of Nine Colors, stylized in Chinese traditional brush art. I watched this film as a kid with my mother, and its message still resonates with me now. I like that the deer doesn’t get punished for reserving its kindness in manipulative situations. I like that those who manipulate receive consequences for their actions. The tattoo is healing well, and so am I.

This break has given me a lot of time to meet with my college friends. It was rejuvenating to have had genuine conversations that weren’t about work or school, but I eventually realized how severely deprived I was of such conversations because so much of my life was blocked out by work and school. I think I am just glad that I still have friends. Scheduling closeness with others is a skill that I’m still developing, though it’s been less mortifying reaching out to people now than it was back then.

I’ve been thinking about the finality of adult friendships a lot—how on several occasions, I’ve outgrown friendships that I thought would hang on for a little bit longer and how the success of such friendships relies so heavily on proximity and commitment. I don’t think I’ve even properly mourned the friendships I’ve lost since high school. How do I even begin to do that anyway? There’s not really breakup advice for friends. Everyone seems to just let it linger in their chests because there’s no other place to put it. Earnest, meaningful friendships are so scarce now—I don’t blame anyone for still holding onto the ones that have faded away long ago.

I feel like everything I do is a desperate plea for intimacy. Every photo, message, haircut, purchase. “Please see that I exist. Please celebrate with me the fact that I am alive.”