Another rise, another fall. Another chance to lose it all.

Another high, another down, another story to come along. 

‘Another rise, another fall’ – Miami Horror.

I had a great night last night. December 4th 2017; great wine and even greater company, despite the depression and longing to have someone a little extra special to hold through it all. That night felt like Christmas.

It felt like family, placing the lads in the inappropriate uncle roles, or as coked up sesh gremlins. The girls cooked for us all for the first time ever and it was absolutely perfect. I would not have changed a thing (except perhaps to have more of it). I got numb on the rosé and sang a few songs, I did the Macarena in public and I genuinely laughed a lot. Eating around a table as a family of friends that barely even know each other was truly the closest thing I have had to a Christmas in too long. Hopefully on the 25th with my actual family, I can do my best to bring us all together again. But until then, Christmas has been and gone. I have thankful for the company and laughs. I had a lingering tear in my eye all night even as I retired to my room and wrote a draft of this. The little things mattered.

For our secret Santa, the first one of my life, my best mate from class accepted me for not having my gift on the day. It is either flying or coming on a boat from Hong Kong and once the jokes were out of the way, he actually said to me that it must actually be a pretty damn good present if it was specially ordered for him; and it is. The man is very passionate, he shared with us all that he has had sex to Shrek 1, 2 & 3! And his present, wherever it is in the world, is a huge green t-shirt with Shrek’s face plastered on it to fuel all of his memes and quotes for the next century. And he accepts that. Furthermore, to tide him over until then, I bought him a pack of fig rolls (fig newtons to those of you across the pond). He loved them all the same.

And then it came to my gift. I was one of the last to receive one, it came in a tall gift bag, usually designed for bottles of alcohol, cellotaped at the top so no peeking! And the weight was heavy like a much-needed bottle of wine I could certainly do with. Two packets I felt in there too which I figured straight away what they could be. I ripped open the damn cellotape, first time I had ever seen it used to seal a gift bag before, and sure enough it was a second bottle of rosé for the night and yep, two boxes of fig rolls. God damn.

I looked up the table, it had to be a close friend to know and before I assumed anyone else, my eyes locked onto the radiant smile coming from the end of the table. A little ray of sunshine fired into my heart and honestly, no hyperbole or exaggeration, I still had the very same tear writing the draft of this last night all those hours later. The girl, I have talked about her before. I thought I had lost her as a friend. I have felt unable to talk to her because I felt that she was unable to talk to me too. Though as neither of us had said anything for some time now, I guess I got paranoid and twisted that to losing a friend. I was so wrong, of course she was still a friend. I was too blind to see it, too prideful and full of this fear I have been feeling. All night she was sweet to everyone and I feel that she is finally getting it right, she is getting there. I want to be like that, to be seen by someone like that. I want to be that friend that brings a tear to someone’s eye just because they are doing well for themselves. She knew that with that gift, something so simple, non-material, temporal and practical like food and wine could mean so much to me because she remembered what made me happy. I truly was happy.

Then, at the end of the night I stumbled back home and turned the lights off, winded down to some music, grapes and my new favourite emotional drama ‘This Is Us’; I felt no cares for the next day. I wanted to carry on living in yesterday. I had to write about the love I had in my heart last night, for friends that meant so much; friends I had never had before. Even though I only have a few friends and some I struggle to share with, I can at least share laughter and a good night with them. I finished writing the draft at 2:50am, almost 24 hours ago now and it feels like a lifetime ago. I needed to write this as a testament to the proof that love is still in my heart, despite whatever I may tell myself.

Today has been a tough. No hangover unlike my unfortunate friends however, depression has really hit home again. I skipped lectures, woke up in the afternoon, failed at archery again and let my anger get the better of me, I almost hit a wall. Fuck knows I wanted to hit something. This anger never left either and even with all of the love and happiness from yesterday, all good things must come to an end. A story about me has crossed to the lips of a friend that wants to talk to me about it and I really, really don’t. I dread facing him. I have a really shitty assignment due in two days. People are beginning to leave university for the holidays and I just do not know what to do with my life any more. I will take yesterday as a victory but today has been a defeat. And again, I fight looking at the old picture on my phone to give me strength.

Much love from your friend,

Alex. 

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