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Good People

For a couple of days, I’ve been asking the very same question that Jack Johnson asks in one of his songs (Good People, which, by the way, is my firm favorite along with Banana Pancakes and Better Together): where’d all the good people go?

I’ve had some tumultuous relationships in the last few months. Just when I thought I was done with one, there came another one. It’s all very draining, honestly, and I’ve come to the point where I don’t trust people anymore. People can act sweet when they have an intention and not give a shit after that. That’s how deceitful they could be, I found out. Only two days ago I called my friend and snapped the words I should’ve said to someone who (recently) disappeared, ‘That’s it? I don’t even deserve an explanation?’ His answer to that, brought some sense that had been gone for too long to me.

‘That means he doesn’t deserve to be in your life.’

That was a wake up call for me.

Tonight I was writing in the sofa with my laptop on my belly, lying side by side with my housemate who just got back from work at 10 pm. He opened a bottle of cider, and we intermittently talked with silences in between when I typed and he sipped his cider. It’s become our routine, talking in the night before we go to bed. Our conversations range from serious things like politics to something as inconsequential as peanut butter sandwich.

Tonight, it’s about how I lost trust in people. I told him that I was becoming more cynical and bitter as a way of protecting myself. Upon hearing this, he said, ‘Oh dear.’ I found this really funny, since he’s the most cynical and bitter person I’ve ever met (even he said so himself).

We’d been talking for a while when I realized how depressing our talk was, so I said, ‘Oh god, sorry for this depressing talk.’

He replied with, ‘Hey, come on, it’s okay. You’ve been listening to me ranting for 3 weeks, so now it’s my turn.’

The conversation was closed with him saying, ‘Don’t be like me.’ I laughed to that.

We talked about other things after that, and before he went to his room, he said again, ‘Don’t be bitter,’ and gave me a rueful smile.

This was the point when it hit me, that good people do exist. Their presence is probably overshadowed by the broken trust caused by the misery imposed upon me by the deceitful ones, but they’re there. While I’m still not ready to be trusting to people, I know there are some exceptions where I can put aside my doubt and really see the goodness in people. I can see that already in some of them, anyway.

My old friend from home whom I can call anytime, who keeps saying that I should pay him 500 quids per phone session (and this price increased overnight from 50 quids), but I know I can get away with buying him a 8000 rupiahs fried rice in front of our old campus. My other friend who must be bored and tired of hearing me whining the same thing over and over again, yet still be there even when he’s working in an offshore rig with signal difficulty. My good friend here who drags me out of bed when I least want it (which just proves that I most need it), comes to my house with a box of chocolate when I have a bad day, and simply takes care of me. My housemate who, at the end of his tiring day, still listens to my rants. All good friends from home who, despite the time difference, prove to always be there when I need them, and stay with me no matter what.

They’re there.

And to these people, thank you so much.

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