I want my stuff back
No matter how it begins, there’s always room for awkward. Navigating social waters requires perceptiveness and a degree of passivity but there being people additional to the navigator means that there’s no helping the freak storm. There’s only tying shit down, hoping for the best, keeping your head above water, and waiting for it to blow past. You cut yourself from the mast in a calm space and find that new alliances have been formed, new rules written.
We’re hardly as overcome by shock or disgust as we are by the swiftness of change. Best friends, lovers– we fear they might be as interchangeable as they seem. There are not enough interests in the world to hold people together. No music. Forget money. Can we even narrow it down to love? Respect? Tolerance? Maybe it’s the willingness to give, but the post-event analysis ceases as the truth stops to stare us in the eyes– we stopped caring before we marked it “over.”