Chapter 1: Understanding the Concept of 'Forever'

Reflecting on the past, I recall a gift from a friend seven years ago—a phone case inscribed with the phrase, "Should I stay or should I go?" This was a nod to a Netflix series I adored, 'Stranger Things'.

I've often penned my gratitude for the experiences that have touched my heart and the joy found in life’s simplest moments. Today, I want to delve into the theme of fractured relationships.

In my younger years, I believed that the longevity of a relationship indicated its strength. I took pride in friendships that spanned over a decade, counting the years as a measure of success.

One such friend, whom I’ll refer to as Helena Radcliff (not her real name), was a significant part of my life. We shared our childhoods, but after I made the tough choice to relocate, our communication dwindled. Now, we rarely talk—just the occasional birthday wish and a few catch-ups throughout the year.

Visiting my old room, I’m surrounded by photographs of us, yet I barely recognize the individuals we once were. I pass by the parking lot where we spent late nights reading messages from boys, the place where we sampled cakes under the guise of planning a wedding for our parents, the spot where we celebrated exam results, and the café where we indulged in brownies on our train rides to the city. These places now feel like a graveyard of memories—unchanged yet profoundly different.

As I navigate adulthood, a painful lesson has emerged: best friends can become strangers, and vice versa. Perhaps our understanding of relationships is flawed. This notion applies to all kinds of connections, be it with an old friend, a former partner, or a cherished grandparent we’ve lost.

We often expect all characters in our life story to remain until the end. Yet, some chapters are reserved for characters who may not stay for the long haul. These chapters can be revisited whenever needed, and perhaps these individuals will reappear later in the narrative—or maybe they are simply tied to earlier chapters where we believed they'd always be present.

Or could it be that there’s no defined beginning or end?

Nellie’s monologue from 'Haunting of Hill House' beautifully captures this sentiment: "For so long, I thought time was linear, that our moments fell like dominoes… but it’s not like that at all. Our moments fall around us like rain, or snow, or confetti."

When we cherish someone, we often wish for more time—more confetti. Yet, no matter how much we share with those we love, it never feels like enough. Perhaps grief, nostalgia, and longing are simply ways of learning to love someone differently, adapting to a new form of that love.

I find myself missing my friend in various moments—when I hear her favorite song, when my mother makes a dish she loved, or when I read something I know would have sparked hours of debate between us. It’s ironic how much I know about her, yet I lack a space to express that knowledge. In this chapter of my life, I may need to learn to love her in a new way, nestled within the memories and pages of my story where she still resides.

There's a beautiful Korean concept known as 'Jeong', which signifies deep emotional connections. To me, it represents the bonds we form throughout our lives. Sometimes, characters exit our stories due to conflicts or fate, but the connection, the Jeong, lingers on. That’s the bond I share with Helena.

Recently, I watched a Netflix series called 'One Day', where each episode captures a single day over a decade in two people's lives. It makes me ponder whether I'd be surprised by a snapshot of my life from a few years ago. Helena and I have had similar conversations in the past; I expressed my desire to identify patterns in my life that could forecast my future. She wisely replied, "Perhaps once you’re in the future, you can look back for clues in the past."

Perhaps the phone case she gifted me was hinting at the choices I would face.

"Should I stay, or should I go?"

Yet, maybe the real question isn’t about staying or leaving but about the consequences that follow each choice.

I reminisce about the days when I vowed 'forever' to the friend who inspired this reflection. I’ve come to realize that no one can truly uphold such a promise. To those I cherish, I can’t promise you 'forever', but I can promise this moment—this confetti.

Chapter 2: The Complexity of Relationships

The first video, "Pop Stunna - Forever Is A Myth", explores the fleeting nature of relationships and memories, resonating with the themes discussed above.

The second video, "149: The Forever Home Myth", delves into the misconceptions surrounding permanence in relationships and the importance of embracing change.