The long road to rehab

Growing up introverted brings along unique ways of getting to know people. One moment you're alone by yourself, and in the next, you've been adopted by a few around you who find your quirks to be a placeholder for future mutual weirdness. And then that saying from Pitchers turns true, albeit for different reasons. Your friends are like beer. They turn up in front of your PG and let the entire building know that you need to go downstairs and meet them. They turn up at your place and open the door themselves because they know where the key is kept, instead of ringing the bell like normal people do. They still call you on most weekends asking if you want to go out and sway awkwardly to music where the beat comprises 30% of all tunes, knowing you're gonna say no. Your friends are like beer, only because they keep annoying the anti-social in you, till you get used to it. Till the anti-social in you is dead. Your friends are like beer. You feel annoyed by them until you realize that their annoyance is what you're used to.

Do you know the hardest part of having friends? It's getting used to them.

It's expecting a familiar knock on your room's door on Monday afternoon after a weekend of not seeing or talking to them.

It's expecting two huge human balloons to turn up at your place every Friday, after spending an hour trying to get you to agree to it all.

It's expecting them to call you every time they're going out, knowing full well you're gonna say no anyway.

It's the unnecessary banter, the pointless quarrels, the meaningless fights, all in the name of a secret not shared, or a burn too scalding.

It's the laughter that follows, the private jokes that go completely unsaid, but absolutely understood, and the smiles that come when the food finally arrives in the middle of the night

It's everything you grow used to over the course of a year and a half, only to realize that you're never gonna share the same moments with the same people, as you speed across the city to the airport for one last time.

You take note of every moment they made you smile. You take note of every moment that was, because they saw a friend in you. You remember ever story they told you. You remember the many moments you shared in complete silence with each other. And you cry because it's ending. And you smile because it happened. And you cry because it had to be this way.

You look back and see someone who came to a city ready to face the world, with barriers at full capacity, completely prepared to live life alone. You find yourself leaving, vulnerable and volatile to every fleeting memory and five friends, and infinite memories richer.

But why leave? Why move on? Why not pine away? Why not just get up and go? Why go at all? Why meet someone one last time? Why leave your things as mementos, roll that one last joint, give that one last hug?

Well, that's exactly why. You leave when leaving becomes the hardest thing you can do. You leave to give space. You leave to get space. You leave because you along with you, life must move on. You leave because you've turned too dependent on people you thought would never be close to you. You leave because you must. You leave, because that's your metaphorical rehab.

What if you get sober, and you're still the same shitty person you used to be, just sober?

A wise Nguyen says that it's pointless trying to find a cure-all that'll save you from the asshole you are. Why leave? Why rehab? Why go? Because you could go back to doing the same thing you've done for a while now, or you could trying something new, helpful and encapsulating and see where it takes you. It's okay to remain the same shitty person after. At the very least, you'll have your AA chip telling you you're a week or a month or a year sober, and that's better than where you were a week or a month or a year ago.

You move on because life demands it. You move on because you must.

Farewell, you. Smile, will you. I'm sorry I didn't when you asked me to. Take care. It was great while it lasted. But looks like what we had will be the lowest point in what shall be the life you've chosen. Remember that Khushwant Singh quote, because that's what it'll always be like. I'm gonna stop feeling bitter every time I think of you someday, but I'll never really feel bitter about the time we were together; it feels like you might. Will you ever notice I changed this part? Are you even gonna come here anymore? Smile. It's why I left.