I don’t know what they call it where you’re from: Elementary & middle school, junior school, that horrible place before high school – whatever. Here in South Africa, it’s primary school, and it’s seven years that’s crazy hard to classify.
I guess the second you get out of seventh grade, you really just want to be out. I mean, it’s high school next, it’s insanely amazing, and it’s gonna be just like the movies. You’re gonna have a High School Musical, and you’re gonna find your very own Troy Bolton, and you’ll be even prettier than Gabriella, and you’re gonna defeat all the Sharpay’s, and you’re going to have friends as loyal and lovely as Kelsey, and I’m going to stop referencing High School Musical, because I’m starting to creep you out…
Anyway, there’s always that thought of ‘The Big Scary Teenagerism’. For most people at my school, you turned 13 the year you were in seventh grade, and you had a huge party, and at the end of the year, you go to your last school dance and you talk about all the boyfriends you had from 3rd till 7th grade, because that’s what counted. You talk about how stupid you were when you were younger, and you forget that you were ten three years ago. That was grade seven.
For some people, grade seven was different. For me, grade seven was when I realised that I didn’t really have any friends, when I tried to fit in with everybody, when all I wanted was to be part of just one group. I tried everything: I cut my hair, I talked different, I even changed my school bag. I never got it though 😄 I never really was ‘enough’ to be part of those white teeth teens.
One thing I made sure I didn’t do was to promise to keep in touch. Because I knew what that meant. “Keep in touch” meant that you never really talked. It meant that I was going to become that aunt who you saw just per chance, maybe in the store or something. When you said you’d keep in touch, it mean’t that you were saying goodbye. I hated goodbyes. I think I still do, unless I’m saying goodbye to a 30-foot feet eating flying ant or something.
Anyway, this all leads up to one girl I’m here to talk about today. Her name is Avnit Giatt, and I used to be so so jealous of how pretty she is. I think I still am, perhaps to a lesser extent though. Avnit is (from what I remember from 3 years ago) of average height, slim bulid, brown eyed, and insanely beautiful. She’s talented as anything, and her voice makes you question all that you thought was influential before. Also, it’s pronounced Av-Neet.
Avnit moved to Israel two or three months ago, and she’s still as beautiful as before. Only thing is, I promised to keep in touch. I promised. I never did, and now she’s in the Middle East, at least 5 hours away from me in a plane and closer to a million days away on foot. I won’t lie, I miss her. I miss the way she’s genuine and true, a bout how she loves abundantly and hasn’t been sucked into society. Or that’s what I think.
I hope not, but I wont ever really know, seeing that I kept in touch. All I did was like a Facebook photo or two, and grant a wall post to ask permission to write this. Avnit, if you read this, I wanted to let you know that I think you’re amazing, and I love you. I truthfully do.
What I do know, is that I’m not going to keep in touch anymore. I’m there, I’m everywhere, I’m either whole heartedly going to contact a person or not at all. Because that’s all that really matters: whether you do, or you don’t.
All my love, all the time,