one

seventeen

Sophie's point of view

In the oddest possible way life was finally starting to feel vaguely uncomplicated. Sure school had continued as normal, my classes getting more and more stressful as exams drew closer but somehow, despite my questionable social skills, I had managed to form a weird kind of friendship group which quite honestly seemed to be the only thing keeping me sane. I don't know what drew us together for good, maybe the constant reminder that we were all misfits in our own unique way, but the rarity of any kind of stability of my life normally, made it impossible not to cherish. It's hard to blame anyone but myself for that though, I found, still find it, hard to trust people to stay and though I know deep down that change can be positive, I still find myself mourning the loss of the friends I evolved away from long after we have stopped seeing each other. For that reason there's a sort of inevitability that I will end up distancing myself from anyone I get close to, afraid that if I really let myself trust them, it'll just hurt more when they leave. I'm totally aware that's not an ideal mentality but it's become such a habit that I sometimes forget that it's abnormal.

Despite that, moving so far away from home, meant that I had almost been forced to try to be positive for once. This life in Moordale was as close as a fresh start as I was going to get and I would be damned if I didn't appreciate such a rare second chance. Maeve, in particular, felt intoxicatingly safe, which was terrifying but also made it strangely easier to just let go of any feelings of anxiety about the future when I was around her. Also, though she still called me "pissflaps" on a regular basis, the more time we spent together, the softer her smile was as she insulted me and the redder my cheeks went. Our unofficial agreement had remained intact: both of us somewhat aware that the other made them flustered, but too much of a coward to act on it much more than the odd blown kiss or raised middle finger as they walked away. The rational part of my brain told me not to take such alleged flirtation seriously, whatever I believed about the way she was acting, the fact remained that Maeve had explicitly told me that she wasn't interested in girls. I suppose despite that clarity I hadn't totally given up hope that she would suddenly realise I was an angel in disguise and beg to date me. Totally unrealistic, I'm aware, but who can blame me, she's devastatingly beautiful. Aimee and Eric also had this way of making everything fun, just by being there and Otis was so desperate to hang out with the group that it was hard to believe he would run away any time soon. The stability felt good, reliable but oddly scary as well. The air smelt of the potential for something to change and that made me totally uncomfortable. I rolled my eyes, almost unconsciously, at my own stupidity, "Come on Soph, get it together", I muttered.

Reaching down I pulled the forever crumpled song list for Maeve out of the front pocket of my guitar case and scrawled a messy number eight at the bottom of the list.

8. Happy Accidents - Saint Motel

Happy accidents is almost impossibly beautiful, its simple lyrics perfectly describing my thankfulness for Maeve. It was impossible not to forget how lucky we were to know each other when we so easily might never have met and the accidental friendship that had spawned as a result was almost enough to turn me spiritual. It's almost as if the universe planned my meeting Maeve, so that she was perfectly positioned, waiting in the wings for exactly when I needed her most. The song is nostalgic at first, attempting to imagine how life would have been different if two people had never crossed paths, but then realising that such thoughts are impossible to manifest, chooses to celebrate the present instead, revelling in the happy accidents that occur every day.

I smiled to myself, my heart beating faster as I was reminded that she was in fact in my life. Knowing Maeve wasn't something that you got tired of, quite the opposite in fact.

I felt so grateful, almost in debt to whoever made such a thing possible. I don't believe in a God, weirdly enough my parents Christianity becoming a barrier to their acceptance of me as Queer coupled with the number of philosophy books I had read recently about existentialism and the idea that nothing is real had made it incredibly difficult to trust in the existence of a higher power. A meaning to life however, I'm not sure I agree with Sartre* on that one.

I twisted my head to the left and checked the time on my phone. "Shit" I muttered, dramatically rolling, and consequently falling, out of bed. I put the list away and grabbed my headphones from the shelf behind me. It was time to walk to Maeve's. 

*For clarity Jean-Paul Sartre was an existentialist philosopher who basically said that it is only by existing and acting a certain way that we are able to give meaning to our lives. According to him, there is no fixed design for how a human being should be and no God to give us a purpose. So that means we have the freedom to make meaning in our lives but also with freedom comes responsibility which scares people.