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In Relationships 4 min read
The Versions We Keep
<p>Oh, the futility of chasing relationships …</p><p><br/></p><p>Pessimistic? Unfairly generalized? “She must be depressed”? Understood , duly noted. Forgive the nonchalance.</p><p><br/></p><p>Socialization is termed as the foundation for human existence. Indeed, it is. From time immemorial, there is always that search for a person who we can speak with. Feel with. Experience with.</p><p><br/></p><p>And when we find such people, we pretty much want it to be that way forever. Sure, we can become so in tune with the presence of such people around us that it feels like it's as sure as our next breath, that they will always be around. That they will pretty much be the way they’ve always been. Present. Understanding. </p><p><br/></p><p>But the uncomfortable truth is that people come and go- Physical, emotionally, mentally and otherwise. So when I feel a creeping sense of sadness about the difference I observed in Lane, my only guy friend has today from himself yesterday, I am holding on to “the person of Lane” which has always been present, the same way I'd feel sad at the physical departure of Erin, my closest friend from the Fourth grade. And there's proof for that.</p><p><br/></p><p>Firstly, there's the sense of the last “versions” of both people kept in our heads. Because the last version of the person is the only version we’ve always had, we relate to them from that standpoint. When we talk or text them, we crave to feel the vibe that has always been there. And for some time, realistically speaking, it's still there. But what we don't want to register is the slight changes that occur.</p><p><br/></p><p>You discover that your data balance stands between your long conversations with Erin. You discover there's a new girl at school that seems to really vibe with Lane. You speak to both like it's just okay, it's the same thing, hanging on to the version you’ve always known. Erin is too engaged to speak everyday. Last time she called, she was with a group of people you don't know. Lane doesn't seem to answer your texts as quickly as he used to. He’s also always walking with new girl…</p><p><br/></p><p>There are two types of reactions we’d often give to the circumstances above, including in different contexts. There are times we look inwardly, and ask if we're the ones that changed enough to drive people away. We might try to recoil to the generic personality we think we can be identified by. Tough guy. Sarcastic. Focused. All to convince ourselves that we are the problem. Little wonder about those random times when you ask Erin for a video chat to study together like you guys used to. “I’ve relapsed to sleeping when studying again”.</p><p><br/></p><p>And there are the times we can't help but look externally. And try to consider the things that initiated and fan the change. A bit mature of you actually, you’re considering things outside your control that inevitably cause the shift. But you are also considering everything. So, suddenly New Girl is a suspect. She acts too perfect or perhaps,you feel like she is. You either roll your eyes internally at the sight of her, or wonder how to wear your hair up like she does. You notice things from afar, observations meant to stay hidden; Lane simply cannot know you notice every smile, every walk they've shared. He's not "used" to seeing this version of you.</p><p><br/></p><p>And so, I just see this constant cycle of noticing shifts, trying to reach out and losing hold, till whatever things that existed becomes no more than a surface distant memory. The funny thing is that this trend can be observed in all units of human relationships. Life brings us together to just separate us. And it seems darker when a tangible part of you was taken along with Erin and Lane’s absence. A void that you can always be at the risk of falling into. You feel lost and lonely and wonder why you’re so unhappy.</p><p><br/></p><p>Not saying having relationships is a bad thing. In fact, as social animals, it is necessary for existence. And some people can genuinely be interesting and nice enough to reach out once in a while. But if you’re heavily emotionally invested in people, you will fall into a problem in their absence. Especially since it is inevitable. In marriage as well, many people don't recognize their partners anymore. We are all engaged in this dizzy dance of holding something, losing hold of it and if we can, holding on to a new version while wondering what went wrong.</p><p><br/></p><p>“Such is life, Reggie”. Very well then. If so, can't we just save ourselves the void that happens from chasing versions of people we’ve always known? Can't we live everyday like that's the last day a person would exist, with the mindset that a new version of them will come the next day?</p><p><br/></p><p>And since we’ve been subjected to this constant disconnection that inevitably happens with people, can't we just put intentional attention into maintaining ourselves enough that relationships enrich our lives rather than become the sole thing holding it together? With such protected priority that, in Erin and Lane’s absence, we still have something weighted to keep us grounded?</p><p><br/></p><p>Cause they’ll eventually go anyway. Erin’s number may be that long distant friend's that your finger hovers over at Christmas. Lane and New girl might be a couple by next semester. Either way, at that moment , they’re not as present as they were the first time. You’ve also learnt that they were never meant to be always present. Because people come and go.</p>

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