Today I sat in the mall not to shop, but to reflect – it was something I haven't done since I was in high school. In today’s world, a place with free wifi and an outlet is a writer’s Eldorado. Nibbling on a chocolaty cake donut and sipping a velvety mocha, I tried to slip into the headspace to write this.
I thought back to yesterday in a local cafe near my house. I sat with a close friend who regaled me with the current drama and relationship news that begets single life in your twenties. We met in the little cafe after I had been dealing with “The X”. The ritualistic trading of our belongings from each other's apartments left me with unanswered emotions and questions that felt too complex for mundane objects.
They were items I could live without normally, but now they make me nostalgic. They take up too much space on my shelves. It's hard to believe they were once right at home on foreign soil.
This made me wonder – are relationships like this? Is nostalgia so potent that we minimize bad relationships and carve empty space in the studio apartments of our souls? How do we furnish an “X” shaped hole? How do we solve for X?
Skye was a friend I was happy to hear from. It was usually accompanied with stories of the people she went out with. I couldn't help but feel a little jealous – even if I had my own excitement as well. It was a mix of good and bad dates. I could tell she was happy to get it off her chest and I was happy to listen. One thing we could fill the vacancy with was friends. Those who stick by us and are the ones you go to after all the drama romance brings and let loose.
Skye was polyamorous and knew just about everybody in the city, which made her perfect for vetting the people I met on the apps. She was crucial in my recovery over the past few months, nudging me out of my apartment and taking my social life from microwavable to gourmet. With a giddy tone she went on and we chatted until the cafe closed. I forgot all about the encounter with X.
We grabbed our now lukewarm drinks and wandered into the arcade we often frequented. It was a place of restoration, one where the sounds of pinball flappers and chimes of token cups lingered in the air.
It was reassuring to be among those with a love for things stuck in time. Arcade regulars were always sunny and warm, grateful for a third space even in modern times. A small part of me was able to put a mental box around the space left from the past as I slid tokens into the glowing cabinet before me. In that moment, as the song loaded up, my eyes shifted to the screen in front of me. It was time.
Time was already making it easier to fill the space up. With my days busy and full of people and places, forgetting the X-shaped hole happened more and more often. Where my external apartment sat full of memories from a bygone era, my internal one felt peaceful and coherent — like there never was a hole in the first place.
I didn't feel nostalgic as I returned home to the room I nested in. I slowly unpacked the boxes X had left, and soon I was making dinner as I drank a glass of bitter and smooth wine. The steam from the risotto fogged my glasses and I was filled with warmth. Every bite a warm hug gently kept me tucked in as I watched the show I’d been on that week.
In my armchair I rested and felt peace come over me. No longer was the thought of X in my head. A once familiar voice was now just a memory, and the items I got back were able to be given new life.
So how do you solve for X?
Well, it's actually pretty simple.
X × Friends + Time = Peace of Mind.