Tag Archive: friendship


I don’t know how to reach you.

I don’t know how to be there for you. I don’t know what to say or how to talk to you.

I know that you’re going through something and that nothing I say or do will make it hurt less.

You’re my best friend and I love you. I love you beyond words and it hurts me that I can’t help you.

Because you’re hurting, I let the fact that you hurt my feelings go.  I didn’t tell you that it hurts me when you don’t tell me these things. I didn’t tell you that I can still hear your voice in my head, replaying that time you told me I’m not good at feelings and that I’m the last person on earth with whom anyone should talk about emotions. I didn’t tell you that hearing about what happened after the fact, after you had already spilled your heart to the other leg of the Tripod, as you do every single time you have any real emotions, I felt sad and left-out.

I don’t tell you these things because, this time, it’s not about me.

You were there for me when I needed you. When I cried countless times because my heart hurt over the complete deterioration of the friendship I had with my so-called best friend, you were there. Even when I repeated myself and when you couldn’t understand how I could be feeling the way I was, you listened. You listened, and you cared, and you showed up when I needed you.

I’m so sorry that you feel I haven’t done the same for you.

I wish you’d talk to me and stop shutting me out.  I wish things didn’t feel so weird. I don’t understand what happened or even how to make it better.

I don’t know what to say.

Sometimes people just need space. Sometimes it just takes time to sort through all of those thoughts and feelings. That’s what I thought I was doing, giving you time and space to feel sad and mend your broken heart.  But it’s been a few days now and I haven’t heard anything and we haven’t talked.  I don’t like how we left things.

I don’t know how to make this better. You know I’m no good with confrontation, not when it’s something like this.  Not when it feels like there’s something as awesome as the Tripod at stake.  Things feel fragile and I can’t see where to step to make a move.

For once, I feel like I don’t know you. I feel like I don’t know how to read you. You feel so far away. I can’t figure out what you’re thinking or try to guess how you’d respond to any of the actions I have almost made.

I just miss you is all. I want things to go back to normal, and I want you to talk to me. I want to be there for you. I want you to tell me that you’re hurting but that our friendship matters.

I don’t know how to reach you.

Let’s talk, for a moment, about comfortable silences.

It takes a while to get to that point where you can sit comfortably in silence with another person. Or, perhaps, it’s rare and exciting when you realize you’ve found someone with whom you can share those moments.

It’s fine to talk, talk, talk all the time. It’s fine to share stories and laugh and make jokes to fill the silence. It’s fine to quote movies and constantly have something to talk about.

What’s even better than that constant stimulation is the times when that doesn’t need to happen.

I’m not trying to get at something deeper here. I’m not trying to be cheesy and say something about how the silence somehow indicates a deeper emotional understanding, therefore words are no longer necessary. I just mean that sometimes it’s nice to not have to talk all the time or to be engaging in an activity every second.

I also just really like taking naps.

More and more frequently, Megan and I get together to hang out and then one or both of us ends up just falling asleep.

For example, today I went over to Megan’s house to hang out and watch Date Night because a.) it just came out on DVD, and b.) Megan just had knee surgery so she needs to be taking it easy (despite my offerings to push her down a flight of stairs or “fucking shit up” with hypothetical laser-beam eyes). Shortly after we started the movie, I threw out a disclaimer. I mostly did this because Seneca was with us, and I don’t know how comfortable she is with friend nap-time.

So, like I had anticipated, I of course zonked right out. There were a couple times when Megan tried to wake me because I was missing “the best part” but I mostly slept through the entire movie.

I think this is totally fine because last time we tried to watch a movie (Cop Out), Megan was zonked out hard. Like, out cold. There was no pretending she was “resting her eyes” or just sort of dozing off. She was full-blown sleeping. Right there on the couch.  I guess, in all fairness, I myself dozed off during the movie as well. But at least I made it through it.

The sad part is that that occurrence of watching Cop Out was not our first attempt. Our first attempt was probably a week before that and we both totally fell asleep. Right on my couch. Both of us, opposite ends of the couch, sharing a blanket, we just fell asleep. Then we both kinda woke up and realized we had been sleeping. It was awesome.

There have been other times, too, that something like this has happened, not just in our very recent history. One time I went to hang out in the afternoon and it was raining. We turned on the TV to watch an episode of 48 Hours Mystery (because we love it- and by we I mean I love Lester Holt) and it lulled us right to sleep, with Bubba (her pomeranian) between us on the couch.

Or the time we rented that one George Clooney and Brad Pitt movie… Burn After Reading or something? And I kept falling asleep and she kept telling me I was “doing it again” every time I woke up and tried to pretend I wasn’t sleeping. I was just resting my eyes!

This post makes it seem like all I ever do is watch movies and sleep through them but I promise that’s not true. And if it is true and you’re gonna be all judgy and rude about it, then maybe we shouldn’t be friends.

I want a polar bear!!

For the past five months and thirteen days, my  heart has been trying to heal.

I have been fixated on the one thing I didn’t have but yearned for so badly. The sense of loss I felt consumed me and I felt like I would never feel whole again. I felt like my heart would always have a gaping hole, that no matter what I did, how much time passed or who came into my life post-war, my heart would always feel like a piece was missing.

There are just some people you can’t live without. There are people out there who impact you in a way that is indescribable, and unless someone has someone like that in his or her life, he or she just cannot understand what that feels like. There are people that your mind, body, and soul have conditioned you to believe you need them in your life, that they are your tether to reality and to things that matter. There are people out there that have marked your life so implicitly that to have to live without that, it actually hurts.  There are just certain people that know you and like you even when you don’t deserve it.

For five months and thirteen days, my person was not my person anymore. My best friend, my soul sister, was no longer a part of my life. The bond we thought to be indestructible took a hit that very nearly destroyed us. For five months and thirteen days, I didn’t speak to the one person who knew me better than anyone else on this earth, the person who knew my every move before I made it, could be honest with me when no one else could, was there when I pushed everyone else away. For five months and thirteen days, it seemed our friendship had lost its pulse. It was over, and I felt alone.

We weren’t fair to each other. We loved but we stopped liking. We stopped listening. Things changed. We changed. But this time, after so many years, we didn’t change together. We grew up, and we grew away. Unable to cope, we pushed until we broke. And break, we did.

For the first time in five months and thirteen days, my heart feels like it’s mending itself. The gaping hole in my chest is closing, and it doesn’t hurt to breathe. Time was on our side, but it was wiser than the two of us.  We needed to be apart to learn to care again.

New beginnings seem scary, but I can feel the pulse coming back. The wreckage we caused is finally being remedied. Post-war isn’t so dark anymore. It ‘s a new era. And even though I know it can’t be how it was, the funny thing about life and love is that it goes on. We have a chance to start over, to be fair and really care this time. We have the lessons we learned from the pain to guide us, to remind us to be better.

To make it to the other side, it has to be a testament to the strength of our bond.

I’ve missed you.