My life was never a bouquet of roses. I was an outsider since the third grade, bullied by Evan and the gang. When I moved upstate, the bullying continued, and in this small town, almost everyone didn’t want to be my friend. Those that were came on shaky ground, with false smiles and razor sharp daggers, and those scars still itch and peel. Maybe, I was better off alone, not being your friend.
Everyone has friends, or so they say. Some have many, and many have some. And a few just have a few, maybe one, but they say that we all need a friend. But what we have are enemies, people that we can’t trust, so who do you trust? How do you know that you made a friend?
And if you make a friend, will they see you as they want to see you? Will they see the real you? Will they know the wars that you have waged or wars that have been waged against you? Will they know the demons that you carry? Will they know all that lies in your heart, mind, and soul? Will they know the real you?
In this turmoil that I call life, I could count my true friends on my fingers, but my true friends were lost by my own hand, lost in my own wars and self-destruction, regret of what could never be undone. I’ve spent many years alone, thinking that it would be better to be left alone, so how do I still have friends? And do they know all that I am, all my secrets, and all the darkness kept inside?
To be alone is to be dead, buried behind this world. There is no definition without experience. There is no living without living. There is no love, if we deny ourselves from finding it, but finding love is like catching water. Still, we have to try, or we would truly be alone. And I’ve lost many years to solitude.
And I’m trying to be your friend. It’s hard living so far away from you. The bonds of our friendship have stretched as far as they could go, but I’ll never be too far behind. I’ll always come back to visit, but as the void remains between us, do you know the life that I am living? Do you know the secrets that I keep, the demons that I carry, and when I visit, could we reconnect over the days, months and years lost, waiting to be fulfilled? Could we remember the good times and bad, and could we look to the future? I’m always looking back at everything that was said and done, all the friendships that I have destroyed, and all the regret that I carry, but you remain by my side, a true friend. And a decade has come and gone.
Still, I feel alone. These four walls hold me still, and there are times when I need a friend, when I need you. But you are living your life, and the phone lies heavy in my hand. I don’t want to burden you, but when I see you, then, maybe I would unleash all that I hold inside. Isn’t that what friends are supposed to do? Trust the other and tell all that they live and live hard? I don’t know, but I will always try to be your friend.