Ying and Yang.

I’ve been told many times before not to take life for granted. It’s a little funny, because I’m by nature the kind of person who never takes anything for granted, let alone life. The world might just call me Miss Optimist, you know, because I’m that damn happy, all bright blonde hair and brown eyes. I know it gets on her nerves to see me like that, but you know, nothing like a bit of light to balance dark. But it’s even more amusing to think about because she was the one who told me not to take life for granted.

See, this is where things get interesting. Because for someone who is so bloody dark and moody, she can be really hyperactive and more than slightly insane. I recall that day when we were waving at the passing traffic for half an hour while one of our fellow friends was checking in on work. Another time, she got off her rocker on sugar and ended up pole dancing on a stop sign. It’s now legend in the group.

Anyway, back to the topic at hand, which is my friend. She’s occasionally like a starry night, all blackness with sparkles of happiness that seems to come from so far away, they might be false. But they never are. It’s like she can shuck darkness much like we can all shuck coats in warm weather, its amusing, intriguing and frustrating all at the same time.

Now, to the uneducated eye, it sounds like I’m in love with her. I’m not. My boyfriend would have my head if I was and I would willingly give it, seeing as I want to marry the damn guy. But I’m just intrigued so much by her. Yes, I’ll admit, I’ll wear rose coloured glasses full time and occasionally accessorize with the brains of someone who really doesn’t want to be disillusioned. It’s just really bloody unusual to meet and become friends with someone who is full of so many contradictions. So much light and shade.

Even as I look at the photo of us taken last year at a sleepover, I’m amused by how much her looks represent who she is. Pale skin and long black hair with ice blue eyes. But she’s wearing pink flannelette pants and a Cradle of Filth T-shirt for fucks sake! And there was me in my green pyjamas and blue hoodie, looking at the camera all smiling. She of course was cheerily grinning, which really contrasted with the fact we earlier that on evening discussed her history of self-harm.

And here we get to the crux of the strange and remarkable person she is. Yes, my friend, the hyperactive creative nutso artist who told me not to take life for granted has had issues with suicide and self harm. She rides her bike a ton but smokes like a chimney. She’s still at school and doing well, but parties harder than most punks. She likes both 90’s music and soft Rock like Snow Patrol but moshs to I Killed The Prom Queen and has posters of so many metal and hardcore bands on her walls; I’m often lost to tell who is who.

Yes, my best friend is a walking contradiction. And it confused the hell out of me sometimes!

For example, one day I was meeting my boy and I say her down the street, dressed in head to foot black with blue converses. Her cigarette smoke idled through the air as careless as she was leaning against the wall near the take-away shop. She bobbed her head to the sound of very loud music. I was astonished when she bounded over (yes She bounds. Not lurches) and yelled, “I’m listening to Thirsty Merc! I got their new album today!” Now, for those who don’t know, Thirsty Merc are at best known as ‘alt rock’. Yes. ‘alt rock’. Not ‘hardcore’ or ‘screamo’. But rock.

It took my boyfriend by surprise, seeing as this was the first time they had met. He confided in me later he was expecting a smoker’s growl instead of a bright, playful voice and some unknown underground metal act, not the top-of-the-charts Aussie alt rockers. What was funnier was when she was walking down the street with us singing’ Running’ by Evermore under her breathe, the one snatch of lyrics seeming stuck (“I don’t know. I really don’t know…”). Again, skaters who slowed down to check her out were soon scared off by the fact this hardcore/emo/gothic kind of girl was singing something bright and clean in daylight no less…

There were a lot of laughs to be had that day.

But again, I digress. She knows I get easily distracted. We’re like peas in a pod in that respect. I know of many times when her brother has shined the back of his iPod on the wall and she jumped up to chase it. Again, we laughed. But I also recall nights where she has let me read her diary. And that’s when I get very scared.

See, she has this very dark side. Like two sides of the ying and yang symbol. She’s perfectly balanced in that she has a lot of light and a lot of dark. Her poetry often inspires me to check up on her whenever I can. I remember her handing me a pair of blood stained scissors, telling me to rid her of them before she ‘did something stupid’ again (our code-words for self harm). Again, I remember her getting really wasted at a party one night and my complete and utter freaking out when she was barely conscious. She’s so wild, in both light and shade; I’m often stretched to my optimistic limit. Sometimes, I find myself wondering if all I see is a lie. If I’m too balanced towards light (too much ying, if you will).

But again, I remember not to take life for granted…

She sometimes gets this change in her pretty light blue eyes and I freak out again. I remember once we were at another party (much more her thing than mine, but I tag along for shits and giggles), and she went for a walk on her own, customary cigarette bobbing through the night. I followed on; being the loyal and seriously worried friend I was, grabbing a touch as I left. Soon, we ended up in a park in the middle of nowhere.

I turned the touch on and focussed it on the ground, so that she wouldn’t be blinded.

“Hey.” I called, “Are you ok?”

She turned around slowly, her wrist cuffs glinting in the yellow torchlight. I gulped and pulled my orange jacket tighter around me.

“You followed.” Her bouncy voice was flat and dull, as she stated the obvious.

I nodded, before forgetting it was dark.

“Yeah, I was worried.”

She stepped forwards into the torchlight and I shrank back. Her eyes were so hopeless and hollow. Empty. Like all the life had been drained out of her. But her pride disallowed any sight of weakness.

“I’m fine.” She replied in the same dreary monotone.

I took a tentative step forwards and she took one back. We to-and-froed, me freaking, her numb. Again, I hoped for something other than this… deadness.

“I want to be alone.” She suddenly murmured.

Hurt, I stepped backwards. I was worried sick and completely ass over tit freaking out. But she turned on her heel, sneakers scraping in the dirt, black skirt swirling, and continued across the park…

Later that night when she came back, she was bouncy, and bright and hyperactive and cheerful. But her eyes still belayed hollowness.

And she kept her jumper sleeves rolled down.

Later on, I found the bloody razor in her wallet. Very discreetly, I threw it away, tears burning in my eyes. How could someone so bright and cheerful and amazing be so down and out?

My rose coloured glasses cracked a bit at that moment. She was like that because like wasn’t happy, or good, or nice. It was awful and it shouldn’t treat my best friend that way! But again, when she saw me down and cynical, she hugged me and told me that life should not be taken for granted.

I was so furious at her. How could she be such a hypocrite? But then it seemed like my optimism had been repaired. I realised when she said not to take life for granted, she wasn’t talking about just the good things. She was talking about the sick or evil things as well. The dark things that I mostly pretend aren’t there.

My best friend wasn’t just the biggest contradiction in the world. She was representative of ultimate acceptance. Her with her black hoodie and bright tank tops, with her highs and lows. Her massive family and her even more massive group of buddies. She took it all in and accepted it with all the love that was in her big and open heart.

It just sucked majorly when something broke that heart into a million pieces.

Now, my best friend has found love, finally. He’s a good guy, pretty kind, random and very punk/emo, exactly what she likes. He makes her happy and I reckon it’s great, even though he’s been threatened with castration by me if he hurts her. But she’s still rolling with the punches and smiling everyday after the dark has left. She’s still singing ‘Steal My Sunshine’ by Len and harbouring a huge crush on Dani Filth. She’s, of course, dancing in the street, falling over her feet while remaining able to negotiate a crowded corridor while completely hammered.

She’s the ying and yang, accepting everything with open arms and an open mind. Completely balanced in intensity between light and dark, sharp and soft. The reason why I still retain faith in my pink vision. She’s the ultimate comedian and never takes life for granted.

Well, she’s got me there. She’s me emo babe. And if I have it my way, we’ll change the world somehow.

Now if I can just get ‘Take A Picture’ by Filter out of my head…