Keep walking.

She and I knew each other for about a decade, and in that time, we had shared so much. We had our relationships, and we were always happy for each other when we started them. There were inevitable breakups, and we were there for company as the other fell apart. There was drinking at work, cigarette breaks, quitting smoking, smoking again and fights. There were fights too, but they always worked out. She and I used to go to the beach once a month to decompress- just quick day trips that started early and ended late. Usually with our favorite beer and chinese food at that place near my house. She was the one with a car back then. It was stupid really; the time spent driving was just as much as the time spent on the beach. We didn't care.

Once I even had to take care of her when she was sick. She had moved into an apartment up the street from my house (I think she lives there still). She had a terrible headache, and she was in tears from the pain. I called almost-doctor friends, got medicine, and at one point, I massaged her temples for an hour, just so she could sleep. It was something other people- even couples- go for years without experiencing. People just assumed we were together. When we laughed and explained we weren't, they said we should have been. That always made us laugh more.

It had been about two years since I saw her last. I ran into her again yesterday evening, as she was coming home from work. We both said "Hi," and kept walking. We didn't even break our stride.

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On cooking and stuff

I have very recently noticed something about myself. I binge-cook. Whenever I feel bad about something, or have a general bad vibes-y streak, I cook. It doesn't really matter what it is I cook. A few weeks back, it was a massive batch of chili. My massive, I mean about a pound of beef, plus all the other stuff (rice, beans, tomatoes and anything else I could find). I had no intention of eating it right then and there, I just wanted to cook. (My cousin ate it all ALL shortly after, and got a massive case of indigestion.) A few days ago, it was another batch of stuffed pork chops. The other night, hamburgers. They all turned out pretty great, especially if my cousins are to be believed. They are the ones who have the most to gain from my cooking, being in highschool and always hungry.

The thing is, I have been cooking so goddamn much. Plus, by the time I'm doen, I really have no desire to eat what I made because at that point, I will have tasted and tweaked and tasted so much that I'm more or less full. The food all goes away in the end because of the cousins, so that's good. I sometimes find myself wondering if this is what I should be doing with my life; cooking. Maybe when I'm old.

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