Fate / Saturday, November 24, 2007
During my primary years I don't think I was very friendly to any one in particular, save a few while being outrightly modest and conservative/subservient to others. It was that sort of behaviour which festered at me, lending me to induce some sort of hollow sense of self inside during my latter high school years.
However, this post is not dedicated to my later social behaviours, but rather the strewn circumstances that are built upon by probabilities and possibilities. To be short, I'll skip straight to the last day of Year 6, where every single student would go to the large park outside Hurstville Public to play while waiting for parents.
On that day, the joy/sorrow of graduating primary school was similar to the mood/atmosphere generated upon graduating high school, and amidst the tears and silent acknowledgements lay the crux of park fun: water bomb fight. There were massive balloons flying everywhere from the people playing with their Magic cards, to the people playing handball, all the way to the young kids playing on the park equipment.
To me, that day will stand out because it was the only day I ever openly expressed my regret at not knowing my fellow classmates more. In the middle of the bomb fight, I glanced around for a new target and spotted two girls in my class walking home through the park together. Fortunately, my mind was not set on wetting others but rather engaging in candid conversation. Quickly hurrying over, I halted the two and stumbled seeing their quizzical faces.
Their expressions of wonder/surprise/confusion stumped me, and I was suddenly speechless, stuck in one of those endless loops of uncertainty where all I can think of was, "What was it I wanted to say? Think...think..." So there we were, the three of us, the two of them against the one of me, all silent, waiting for some sort of ice breaker which would allow us to connect.
Funnily enough, about 15 seconds of silence later, I stuck my hand out and offered them a handshake, perhaps a sign of conciliation, or maybe a sign of friendship and remembrance, I do not know. Following this, I quickly blurted out these exact words, "I'm really sorry about these two years. I know I've been an idiot sometimes in class and you probably didn't like me much either, but I just really want to let you guys know how awesome it was to be in the same class as you girls for these two years. Thank you so much. I really regret not getting to know you guys better."
There was open silence again following these words. They just looked at me and stared. Stared. Expressionless. Feeling extremely awkward, I quickly ran off and launched a water bomb which hit some guy on the head and exploded, leaving the two alone.
They never took that handshake.
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Two months later, I received an email from one of those classmates who thanked me sincerely for what I tried to do and remarked upon my bravery for being so straight forward. She told me about how stunned she was and was just too shocked/happy to reply, telling me how she would like to know me better as well.
I never replied back, and since then I've only spoken to her once.
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Another example of possibilities against probabilities would be another primary classmate of mine who used to live on my street. We never really talked, the awkward boy-girl silence always filling the void and eventually ended up as an ignorance of the other's existence. There would be the silent looks and the look-aways-once-i-think-he/she-saw-me, but nothing more than that. We were in the same class for 2 years, waited for and sat in the same bus for 4, and sometimes even had to sit next to each other, but I don't think I've spoken more than 3 minutes of dialogue with her in that timespan.
At the end of Year 10, I finally decided to talk to her. She too, was really surprised that we were having a conversation and on that 3 minute bus trip back we had the shortest catch-up of events I ever had. When I told her it'll be nice if we would talk to each other everyday on the bus to catch-up, her lit-up face instantly dimmed and vanished when she somberly told me that it was the last day she was to take the bus.
She was moving the next day to be closer to her high school.
In hindsight, I suppose it was a good thing I did have that final conversation with her. Another situation where I feel I've patched up a situation at the last minute, but scraped by. Like before, we promised to catch up.
We never did. That was still the last time I talked to her. I don't even have her msn, and I doubt she has mine.
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Regret? A bit.
Would I go back and do things differently? No. I don't think even if I go back, I'd want to change what I did. It was all a learning process, and it was one that taught me that sometimes taking the initiative to find out more can change another's complete outlook or grasp an understanding of what was really happening.
I mean, what would really happen if I never did talk to her on that last day? What if I never stuck my hand for a handshake?
Sure, there must have been situations where I did not take the initiative, and because of that, there is probably a lot that I do not know of that I would have.
That, my dear friends, is what I call fate.
Labels: blog, Friends, literature, memories, rant
/because of my high tolerance.
5:35:00 PM
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