I felt a little emotional today while talking with someone about the meaning of friendship…and I ended up reading this. Hope you like it.
I don’t intend to mourn over the past, even though I’m a little bit that bittersweet girl who cares about people way more than it should, but aren’t we all doing this? If you asked me to open the drawer of memories from my heart you would certainly remain surprised….or disappointed. Actually, it’s hard to grasp your reaction right now after such a long time. All I want you to know it’s that it has a special letter inscribed on it in blood-red ink. I realise that you may certainly wonder why. Well, it’s a long story, but just because you asked I’m going to answer your question in the most truthful way possible. To be honest, I once had a friend. A true friend. The once in a lifetime kind of friend that I wouldn’t have traded for anything in the world. He was the guy who listened to me when no one else would even dare to understand who I truly was deep inside. He brought a smile to my face each time I was sad. He made me laugh when I was drowning, wanting desperately to forget the world. He was that person who was there for me when nobody else was. Usually, when I suffer, I push people aside and shrink everything in myself. He was good at opening my wounds, cutting me wide open like a knife and what was glorious about it was that with each new scar that was opening I was becoming better and better, wiser and wiser.
I once had a friend who said I was ‘kind-hearted’ and even more than that. He called me ‘compassionate’ and ‘sweet’ and ‘understanding’ and ‘caring’ and ‘honest’.
Yet, on top of all of that, he told me something that nobody in the world ever did and it got imprinted on my heart like the white light energy got imprinted on my bones:’you are special’.
I once had a friend who felt that I helped him a lot. A friend who understood that I always cared about how he felt. A friend who missed me just because we were unable to talk for one day. A true friend who knew the real me, without masks and games….and I felt that I knew the real him, too.
What changed since then? I wish I could tell you the answer, but I don’t really know. I became a different person, but in the best and kindest way possible. I know that a part of me owes that to my lost friend because, at some point, the bond between us broke. I believe that everyone reading this would feel sorry for both of us for screwing up something so amazing.
All I know now is that our friendship got stuck in a cold place, trying to break free from the walls of our hostility. I once had a friend who understood me and all I know is that I miss him. I just hope he misses me, too.
Queen of Hearts