Butterflies and Hurricanes

Dear past, present and future friend, 

Hi. How are you? The rain is beating down on my window sill and creating quite a ruckus. It poured for hours today. I don’t know if it’s the lack of sun or just the range of emotions surging inside me, but I’ve felt inexplicably gloomy all day. To a point where I broke down between office calls. 

It’s a strange, barren experience. Sitting in a room, working all day, tapping away at a lonesome keyboard, communicating with people across countries through electronic signals, reading words off emails and chats, “collaborating” and working on online documents and slides. 

To be completely honest, I’m lonely. In the most basic, intrinsically human way possible. I’m finding it a bit too shocking for my system. As much as I love not having to commute (or wearing pants for that matter), I don’t think I can enjoy solitary existence for very long. 

I miss you. And I desperately miss having friends at work. I miss all the chai and coffee breaks. I miss being able to plop myself down next to someone and demand their attention. I miss the easy bonhomie in conference rooms. I miss being there for people. I miss standing out on the balcony, overlooking the city and questioning our choices. I miss having the choice to let our thoughts unfurl without having to send meeting invites in neat little calendars. I miss terrace parties and sharing playlists.

I miss the random hugs, the extended lunch breaks and post-office drinks. I miss golgappas. More than anything though, I miss the serendipity of certain moments. How you run into someone in the canteen and unexpectedly end up having an intellectually stimulating conversation. Or how your friend shares something deeply personal with you once you’re done going over campaign plans and spreadsheets. How you always carry extra food because you know someone in your team would have probably forgotten their lunch box. 

I miss how humans look out for each other at a workplace. And outside. I miss striking up a stunning conversation with a stranger. I love the joy of a new friendship blossoming, and all the natural plans that follow. I miss being funny. I miss making people laugh and going “Yes!” in my head. I love linking arms and walking on the footpath, letting our legs sync up until we’re walking with the exact same gait. I miss leaving bum impressions on sofas in our favourite haunts. I miss breaking into a song and have three other people join in. 

I miss dancing with friends. God, how I miss it. I miss high fives, back slaps and hugs as comforting and warm as a slice of chocolate cake. I miss wide grins. I miss being noticed by you when I’m upset, and then being pulled away from my screen, and getting treated to golgappas. (I really want golgappas, okay?) 

I guess what I’m getting at is this… I miss love in all its forms and shades. I miss being all the people I have been, I can be, and I’m yet to be with all the people I’m supposed to be with, should be with and will be with. 

Does that make sense? Probably not. It’s really late. I’ll get to bed now. I have another day full of 2D humanoid apparitions, words and pictures on a rectangular screen to look forward to. 

Here’s hoping when I meet you next, we’ll be living in a world where sudden, tight, intense hugs are a thing again. I’m really counting on it.

I can’t wait to see you again.

Yours in waiting,

Astha.