My best friend and I…
It is a rare occasion in one’s life when we can rebuilt the bridges burned, resuscitate the dead relationships like a phoenix from the ashes.
In the past two months you followed me in my journey through hell and back. A bit over dramatic maybe to some but to me it literally was hell. I lost the best friend I’ve ever had and probably ever will have. The day he walked out of my life will be burned forever in my memory as a constant reminder that our friendship is worth fighting for against anything and anyone. The term friend is easily thrown about in today’s social circles, so it might be difficult for some to understand why go to so much trouble for one person. The answer is simple. He maybe be just one person to you, but to me he is the world entire.
I never mentioned this friend by name, though most of my posts are directed at him. Still as I write this I am asking myself if knowing his name matters much, after all, as Shakespeare once wrote, “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet”. I believe he is right.
Very recently. I contacted my friend apologized for my part in the dissolution of our friendship. I did not hear from him, for what felt like an eternity I began to feel it was truly over. Then the random message came. About a story, he wanted to write.
Slowly we started writing again comparing notes on how things were perceived by our eyes. We came to the conclusion that we were simply victims of a woman hell bent on destroying a friendship. Part of me wants to think it was merely because while she knew him for longer than I. I had gotten to know him far better than she did. She couldn’t handle that, so she set out to turn me into the monster that she is.
On the outside, I guess I can say, she is evil pure and simple, but today I learned she twisted things around. She made her actions mine and my actions hers. So when she told her side she looked amazing. She was, of course, reading my lines in the script of life and she made me out to read hers. So I guess, in the end of all this mess. I am flattered that someone would want to be so much like me, that they would steal my words and my thoughts. Imitation is the most sincere form of flattery so they say. There comes a time however, when a person’s true colors show, and they become nothing more than a cheap and worthless imitation of something greater than themselves.
After all was set in done, both me and my best friend continued speaking to each other. As though time had simply stood still waiting for us to say continue. Continue we shall, a little wiser for the wear. Where we go from here, no one knows, as the song says, “Que será, será, whatever will be will be, the future is not ours to see”