There's this thing that sits solid and heavy on my spirit. Like something that needs saying...but I don't know what it is. I have been too much disorder these past few weeks, and not enough of the steady and silence that I need to write. I need to write. I'm a mess of words swirling, and something that feels like a memory that needs recalling. I am too good at shutting people out. Too good at getting by alone. I am that friend that suddenly stops returning phone calls, would sometimes rather stay home and read a book, than be around people. And in the next instance, I am that friend that rallies the girls together, dances wildly at the club...vodka cran..big smile. I am too much hot and cold sometimes. And I find it hard to forgive, harder to forget. I can end a friendship clean and completely, over one act of dishonestly. I hate being lied to. It insults my intelligence. Anyone who thinks I'll believe a lie, must believe I'm too stupid to figure out the truth.
I felt the lie even before you said it, that quick flicker in your eye gave it away before you pursed your lips to insult me. I had already moved you from that space reserved for best kept secrets, inside jokes, and "remember that time?" into the space labeled DO NOT TRUST. And even after the apology that I knew would come, even after the acknowledgement, that I was really just "something to talk about", a little bit of gossip to pass the time, I knew that you could never re-enter that space. It's the forgetting that I can't do. And I have tried. Because we have been at this friendship for too long. You were the one that knew to enjoy those nights of wild dancing, savour the days when I was open and carefree. Knew to give me time when I needed quiet, and knew when to call me up and say "Enough now, we're going out". We had this... no need to finish sentences type friendship...you already knew. Would cut you a look that could tell a whole story. We had too many stories. So there's this memory that needs revisiting...I'm not sure why or what exactly, but this need to set myself aside from you, this swirling of words that settles on your name for just a moment...makes me think it might be you. Three years after the apology and the "lets start over", I'm still struggling with the forgetting. I just need to write.
Too late we learn, a man must hold his friend, unjudged, accepted, trusted to the end - John Boyle O'Reilly
