The Aesthetic Question

Parting

[Lovely - Billie Eilish]

Two autumns had passed since Aurora moved in. Sometimes it felt like she moved in just days ago, other times it felt like it's been forever. The third autumn was upon their townhouse, and while the weather has become truly glorious, Aurora couldn't help feeling just how much she had aged this past year. She could now start saying things like 'the last thing I did this was ten years ago...' and counting in decades hit her hard just how much time had gone by.

Of the five people that were there at the beginning, Berkley was the last person Aurora thought would stay. Despite all her talks of never investing in anyone, which Aurora wholeheartedly believe was genuine, they were still on talking terms. One might consider them friends, even. There has not been a slight quarrel that had driven them apart, even though there had been plenty of them. At times Aurora felt like they had gotten to know each other so well that they'd too hastily throw all caution to the wind. They were comfortable enough to tell each other anything and everything, yet forgetting that both were equally sensitive and it's not difficult at all to find something that pokes at an open wound.

But most of the time it's fine. Surprisingly, they share an almost identical sense of humour. When carefully monitored to be light-hearted, all their conversations bring Aurora immense joy. When Berkley was the only person to look out for her in a world so lonely and competitive, it's hard not to cling on with gratitude. Aurora suspected that a small part of her loved Berkley because she had just as much of a sad life. Neither had much luck with friends, with money, with doing all the right things. But they still trudged on despite everything. And that's why Aurora felt so in-pace with Berkley, especially when everyone else around them were working high-flying jobs, getting married, doing all sorts of thrilling things with tons of friends. It's nice to know someone's doing just as badly as you were, with whom she could share thoughts about giving up but forever too much of a coward to do so.

Sometimes they'd jokingly call each other their only friend. To a large extent it's true. They did have other friends but none remotely as close. It had occurred to Aurora that without Berkley, she would truly be alone. There would cease to be anyone she could talk to whenever she needed company. That thought scared her. But if she had learned anything in the past two years, it was that things seldom go the way you want them to, and the more you cling on to something, the more it will hurt when it eventually disappears from your life. And most things don't last.

The sizzling of bacon broke off her train of thought. One side of the bacon is slightly burnt, just how she liked her food. Cooking could be so therapeutic sometimes. Treating food in a repetitive pattern, washing, chopping, frying until everything's slightly burnt. Mindless repetition of labour that allowed her brain to wander away from trouble. It's something she had come to appreciate more and more as she grew older.

Yet sometimes it gets boring. She ate cereal for breakfast about three hundred and thirty days a year, but there'd still be days when she woke up and fancy a croissant. So even though cooking had become a way for Aurora to compartmentalize everything and by putting everything exactly where it's supposed to be, gain a measure of control over her own life, she sometimes tire of sameness and scheme drastic changes. But she never got very far, as she feared feeling lost when things were no longer as she was accustomed to. And as a result, cooking gets boring, and perhaps even exhausting. Just as life does, trapping her in the same day, every day.

Alex moved out three weeks ago, after Grace and Maple. For the first few days, Aurora couldn't stop feeling gutted about not having known Alex better. He had always been an enigma to her, someone who's a little too good to be true. Inside that flawless exterior and smooth talking, there is sure to be some big flaw lurking around. Something about unveiling others' flaws or self-doubts and then taking the job of fixing them into her own hands intrigued her. Fixing people in some way feels validating, as if by doing this, she could earn their trust and thus, a special place in their hearts.

Yet he had been nothing but rude to Aurora most of the time. It was always rude enough to ruffle her feathers, but perhaps not rude enough to solicit hatred. Once the first couple days passed, she began to wonder if the kindness or animosity she had the chance to witness had been figments of her imagination. In the end, she decided it was, that anything good about him was made up such that she could justify her interest. She realized she liked the idea of understanding him more than she actually liked him as a person. Having accepted that, she set out to find a new project to occupy her mind.

It wasn't very easy. Loneliness dominated her every thought. All she could think about on some days was just finding company such that she didn't have to be alone all the damn time. She had come far these two years, but she hadn't been able to get through this hurdle. Perhaps it's her, perhaps it's a stage everyone has to go through at some point in their lives, but knowing how to be with oneself is no easy feat.

Sometimes it's hard to spend time with yourself, harder yet to love your own company. She'll admit that despite all those years of doing most things on her own, trying to get into the rhythm of it, she hadn't gone very far. It had gotten better. She used to feel sorry for herself whenever she had to dine alone. Now she had found peace with it, found solace in listening to a podcast or scrolling through the endless social media. But at the end of the day, night time still gets to her. Lonely midnights always provoked her fears, and she would spend most nights curled up in her bed, tears rolling down her cheek and onto the pillow. And when her head start to hurt too much, she would turn the pillow upside down and close her eyes.

Persistent loneliness was not due to a lack of trying. She had attempted as much as she could to meet new people, get to know them and stay connected. Nothing worked whatsoever. As much as she didn't want to admit it, she couldn't help thinking it's something to do with her personality. This time, she was standing right where all those people that intrigued her were. Somewhere high, high above, on a delicate pedestal made of pride, flaws, and self-doubt. Except this time, she couldn't fix herself.

How do you forgive yourself? How do you forgive yourself for not being smart enough, pretty enough, rich enough, talented enough? It's so easy to fall into the trap of thinking all these things make up the foundation of a successful life. If I were smarter, I could be friends with all those smart people and make a name for myself. If I were prettier, more people would be interested in being my friend instead of turning away at first glance. If I were richer, I could shower my friends with gifts or go to all those activities that I never dared join because they require a large sum of money. If I were more talented, it wouldn't matter if I wasn't good at everything because there would always be something to fall back on. Being painfully mediocre at almost every aspect pushes people into this void of self-doubt and anger. The big question is, how do you get out of it? How do you forgive yourself for trying but always falling short? How do you make the most of what you have? How do you really learn to appreciate and love yourself?