t h e i n t i m a t e s t r a n g e r

Changeling

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I’ve been telling friends that there is no more reason to write regularly on the blog – been there done that, plus I’m busy with life. But I thought I would just keep the blog around for the occasional brief post and because I have no compelling reason to shut it down.

I’ve found the reason, and the need, to start writing again.

Welcome, whoever you are who’s still reading.

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Just got off the phone with SF. It’s way past midnight now, just after 0200 hours. It was one of those long phone calls I used to have with my girlfriends – just talking about our day and life in general; reflecting on recent and not so recent events; looking back at old memories with the benefit of hindsight and new eyes.

These late night phonecalls are a rarity at our age (at least for me), what with having to wake up for work the next morning (I had a nice afternoon nap and I’m on leave the next day) and needing more sleep in general.

But there’s something about late night phone calls in the comfort of your room, when the rest of the world is asleep. As you walk down the silent hallway of your mind, doors previously closed start to open as you pass them. And as you look into each room, you sometimes see things that weren’t there before….

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I’ve always thought my parents didn’t bring me up as well as they should, though to be fair, my physical needs and education were adequately taken care of.

Many things however, such as social skills and just getting through life, had to be learnt outside the home through my own experiences, from books and movies, and from friends. That didn’t always work out well and I would stumble many, many times – too many times.

I sometimes wonder what I would be today if I had not missed out on certain experiences and opportunities as a teenager. I was good in sports and could have been a swimmer/athlete…. I was also good with words and could have developed professionally in that area….

All that is water under the bridge now. And I certainly don’t feel my parents owe me these alternate realities. They’ve made sure I was fed, clothed, sheltered and educated. But in many ways, I was left on my own to grow as a person. Whether or not my parents had neglected to cover all their bases with the children, the fact of the matter is that sometimes, they were simply unable to fill all the gaps because they themselves were lacking in those areas and wouldn’t have known any better.

As the years go by, the distance between me and my parents widens incrementally. We still talk of course but it becomes harder to identify with each other’s lives and who we – or rather, I – have become.

I think that’s why my mum doesn’t like SF. Call it jealousy or what you will. Mum thinks I listen to SF too much and I spend too much time with her.

You see, my mum doesn’t know the face in the cradle anymore.

I am the stolen child.

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My friends were waiting for me to wake up from general anaesthesia.

J had his first look of The Ex and there was an unspoken dislike. We had also just started dating for a couple of months then.

Many years later, in the immediate aftermath of the break-up, A and R thought I should re-think my decision and speak with them first, if not let them speak with The Ex first. J, on the other hand, told me in not so many words that The Ex was not to be trusted.

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I used to be ‘very quiet’. I still am described as such though it’s nowhere as bad as before. I don’t remember how bad ‘bad’ was though, but I do also remember there were stretches when I was more vocal.

It’s amazing how The Best Friend continued to engage me during my ‘very quiet’ phase when she first knew me. Most people would have given up talking to a wall within 5 minutes and walked away. Most normal human beings anyway. Heh.

I think if I expressed myself more, I would be a less frustrated person. And so would my friends. Laugh.

Written by The Intimate Stranger

October 13th, 2010 at 3:54 am

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