I'm not going to state your name. It's the internet and that's what you do: post stuff that's actually honest but you can never say on real life because we have all forgotten how to talk. And in true internet fashion you should know who you are. If you even read this blog. I imagine you might check on it every now and then to see how Cecily is doing, but probably not for me. I mean why would you, we talk everyday, right?
Expect we both know that's not true. Every morning we have an hour long bus journey into school, and for how much of that do you think we actually speak? Maybe fifteen minutes on a good day. On bad days, nothing at all. And don't try and say that you are not a morning person, because that is quite clearly not the reason why. Think back to year seven to eleven. Did we ever not speak on the bus? Generally not. Generally we laughed and gossiped and moaned with complete disregard for other passengers, because hey, we were two best friends and that's what we do. Of course there were days when we didn't speak; mainly it was just after you got your first blackberry, which led to your first real discovery of boys (and thus a social life) and so it always seemed as if your face was permanently stuck to that screen. But other times it was because one of us was hacked off with the other and it was that awkward silence. Brining us back to present and providing another reason as to why it's our friendship that's the problem, not the time of day. The moment we get off the bus, I watch you laugh and hug and chatter away with all your new friends. Who are also my friends, but at the bus station they are yours.
It's not that I don't want to talk to you in the mornings. Of course I do, apart from in the mornings after I spent half the night crying. Then I'm whacked and do genuinely want to sleep. But for the majority of the time, I sit there and watch you, as you pout and gaze out of the window and listen to your music, which blocks out my feeble attempts at conversation. I sit there and I realise, I do want to talk to you, however we no longer have anything to talk about. Despite six years of friendship and claiming to be joined at the hip, I don't really know what we have in common anymore.
I am spending more time observing you than being friends with you. And it kills me. Because the more I watch, the more I find myself judging you and I begin to only be able to see your faults; and that is not the best way to maintain a friendship. I because I see your faults more and more each week, the less I find myself being nice to you. Not in an overtly mean way, just more sarcastic. Making jibes which once seemed ok. Again, not the way to maintain a friendship.
I wish I could come up with some deep and meaningful insight. But really, I think boys have a large part to do with it. I think our different interests have a lot to do with it. I think our attitudes to white teeth teens have a lot to do with it. I think competition has a lot to do with it. I think I have a lot to do with it.
On the off chance you do read this, please don't acknowledge it with superficially emotional text, or with a facebook message. Or even call me. Or even mention this ever. Just, talk to me on Monday morning.
Gwendolen
