At Cottlesloe Beach | Perth, Australia | December 9, 2013
Taylor has visited this beach before, last March she rocked a striped Marc Jacobs bikini in the Australian waters.
THERE IT IS!
I wrote this just before I left. I think I never finished it. There were more people I wanted to include in this piece of memory and I never had the time. I didn’t like how the end had that weird pseudo-rhyme either but I thought if I changed it now, it would not feel as genuine. Although it is funny how I can remember sitting in the living room typing this, I can remember each memory clearly, but to the next person, this will just be a bunch of nonsense. Still, I thought I’d put it up.
Sitting on the sofa we have moved about twenty times in the short year we have lived here, I start to reminisce. The memories come back all at once and just for a while, I am letting myself get entirely taken in by this warm blanket of memories.
This sofa. So old, it has to be defying the laws of physics just by still standing. Incredibly comfortable, you can just sink in it. That one night, S were sitting on this sofa, I was on the floor with his legs on either side of me. He told tales of missing his mother and got all the girls swooning. That moment, I realised that I was part of the cool kids group.
The dining table. On which I had C help me carry it out the night of my barbecue. Just like how he helped me carry the burden of the last two years of my degree. Late nights in the library, telling me to snap out of it and study every twenty minutes. Giving me random motivations like a crisp, or one chocolate square. Reading through my essay and getting me the best mark I have ever received for an essay. A much better friend than he would ever admit to be. He will never know how much he means to me.
The TV. On which I watched MiC that one time I could not watch it at A’s because I had an essay due. I kept texting the girls at A’s though. I ended up handing in the essay with 12 seconds to spare. It was not my proudest moment. But I had all three of my housemates around me that night. I’m not sure what was the occasion but I can live in that night forever.
The carpet. Even the carpet we walked on was full of memories. Memories of people spilling drinks and my having to wash and clean and brush the carpet the next day before my housemates realise what it smells like. Memories of telling my friends off for not taking off their shoes and ending up trying to work out a compromise. The carpet that tells me that every inch of this house has taken its place in my heart.
The stairs. The stairs I walked up exhausted after an hour long gym session, the stairs we walked down loudly whenever we were going to have a “family outing”, the stairs we had to vacuum atleast once a month, the stairs N tried to decorate with her flower vase and cookbooks, the stairs I quietly sneaked up whenever I came home late, the stairs I sneaked down for early morning runs. Sometimes I would quietly wait and listen for footsteps walking up and down the stairs when I felt lonely and realise that I never am.
My room. Sleepovers. Dance breaks. Movie nights. My fondest memory is of having maybe 6-7 girls in my room, watching 10 Things I Hate About You, braiding each other’s hair, lying on top of each other (and secretly worrying about how much I have to clean after all this the day after). I loved these girls. I had given them enough reasons to isolate me and thought me a freak, but they never did. I was in this just as much as anyone else. I was a part of it. There are few things in this world I am more proud of than being a part of such a diverse and accepting group.
Through my bedroom window, I’ve watched couples walk down the street hand in hand with envy. On my bedroom floor, I’ve flung dress after dress I’ve tried on trying to get the “perfect look” for the people I was going to meet but somehow always looking pretty similar everytime. In my top drawer, I have a food stash, which never ran out of food because I kept so much of it I usually get sick of them before I finish them. Above my wardrobe, I kept an airbed which I took out everytime I had overnight guests. Everytime I put them back up, I always felt a pang of loneliness, which was quickly cured by meeting the girls.
I’m leaving this house, and I’m leaving this life behind. I don’t know what the future will be like, but it will not be like this. Things I’ve done, I’ll never do again. People I’ve met, I’ll never meet again. Places I’ve been to, I’ll never go to again. It was a year of knowing who my friends are, and it was a year that passed too quickly. It is the best year of my life so far, but in no way the best year of my life ever.