July 12, 2016

THE FRIENDLIEST OF FRIENDS

The year 2014 was the year of over-exaggerating my stories/age with my pretentious, online fucks that I had for friends. 
It’s true. 

People really aren’t kidding when they say that the deepest/best ideas come at night. As I sat in my white, small bedroom at 12:19 AM I couldn’t help but feel need for reinvention. I don’t exactly understand what that means for me or what will come out of it but there’s nothing else than one can do but hope. Hope gives us a sense of security. It’s your second form of currency when you’re broke. 

The year 2014 was the year of over-exaggerating my stories/age with my pretentious, online fucks that I had for friends. It’s true. In 2014 I had a couple online friends across the country (and near me) that taught me quite a lot. I learned a lot about the world of fashion by pretended to be someone who I wasn’t and was educated very precisely about their adventurous sex lives. It’s interesting to listen to other people’s sex lives because I’m able to learn from them and kind of mold an idea of what not to do. Anxiety plays a good part in my decisions. So there’s pros and cons, you know.

However, like all good things in life, those friendships came to a slow end in 2015. Fast forward to present day where I’ve found myself peacefully lurking through their unusual profiles that seem to lack care. It isn’t very surprising. Instagram is dead now. But I continued; I found profiles of people that I had arguments with who had lost a substantial amount of weight. And the weirdest thing about it is that in between everything: I found a need to search for a new me.

Once again, I don’t understand what that means. In a quick flash I suddenly wanted to lose weight and buy new clothes and, shockingly, fuck them. I was kind of turned on by the same people that laughed at me in my face. Time really does wonders for the face. And for forgiveness. It was scarcely beautiful in a way. 

Now how this came to be isn’t some sort of magical story. Over a year ago they commented on my Instagram photos and well I saw them and just said to myself, “What do you have to lose, Fernando?” I said “nothing” and clicked on their profiles. I honestly mean it when I say that it was very bizarre feeling for me. Probably because I wondered about what their life is like now. Are they still fucking assholes? Are the still trolls? I wonder a lot about what people from my past are doing now.

I will always remind myself that these are people that I’m guaranteed to never speaking to again. I mean they’re basically a dead piece of my past. I’m never going back. It’s kind of like having a horrible boyfriend; you learn and they become a piece of your past. You don’t go begging them for more. That is pathetic. Don’t become that person.

Photography by Fernando Reyes

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