I remember now why I have always felt dark lightning storms in my heart whenever I'm around you -- cold and eerie and undeniably depressing. I remember why I call you the harbinger of doom. I thought I have sworn that off when we went our separate ways in college and we don't see as much of each other anymore. But because of last night, every little bit of jagged, heavy, and incredibly rock-solid lonely memory of you is being regurgitated yet again.
Look, I don't exactly know why we became really close friends during highschool, but we are, and we still are. We have definitely gone through a lot together to bind our friendship strong enough and create a solid connection that could last for a long time, but... at what price?
I remember each time you were going through something which requires different levels of angstin' (read: all the time), we would always end up having long talks about it: analyzing every angle of the situation, stating every fact, noting every cirumstance, every detail, how inescapable every groove and corner the hole we were in... AND I WOULD LISTEN, and listen painstakingly, patiently, through every sordid second of it all. Each pause I would try to say something comforting, something other than "it's ok," or "everything will be fine," because we both know that it's really not true. I would say things that sound more real, facing what you have explained to me given the details you have laid out. I would try to at least be remotely helpful AND SAY SOMETHING, however STUPID or IDIOTIC, even if I know there's no fucking thing I can do other than listening because I WANT TO HELP YOU.
And because honestly... I want to help me too. You drag me down. Terribly. With the intense pull of your gloom and the gravity of your problems gripping powerfully like a black hole, I have always been bogged down. I wanted to help you so I can help myself too. Did I mind? I don't know. Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't notice it at that time. What, with everything I was going through at the same time, maybe I was just riding the dark waves of depression with you. And I guess that's what made us stick together. The synchronicity of our emotional wavelengths. It was easier dealing with it when you're with someone as miserable as yourself, ne?
And maybe I didn't understand you enough as I thought I did. But could you blame me? I had my own problems to deal with. You know that. Still I tried to stick it with you, because of some unnameable, irrational force moving me. There are times when I would just want to give up and leave you to your own misery but I simply, ultimately, can't. I couldn't bear it. The connection was too strong already, the pain is unbearable however little force I exert when I try to wrench myself away from you, even if I wanted to so badly.
So I stuck. And I continued to be there, and listen, and grin and bear and chew swallow all you tell me about your sorry little life, which is about every bit as miserable as mine. I even thought I developed a sort of numbness to it after a while. Especially in college, when we don't get to meet as often and you made new friends to talk with, apparently people more resistant (or adaptable) to your negativity than I am. We both developed a sort of muted independence from each other. Which, I admit, I was sort of happy about. I was even looking forward to the rare times when we meet and catch up on things. I thought finally, our friendship has passed the baptism of fire during highschool and has evolved into a finer, polished, more mature dimension. I loved you during highschool, but I loved you EASIER and with a FIERCER CALM after that.
Thence last night. Last night was the latest episode in the recent series, Podi Set Me Up With His Friend Which Didn't End Very Well (Which I Thought It Will Because Everything About It Was So Idyllic, It's Impossible To Screw Up) And Hence I Am Hurting Once Again After Telling Myself That I Am Already Happy. Amidst bottles of SanMig Light and smoke and tarot card readings, you were moaning bereft of love and chance and contentment, and I was, as usual, listening and responding the way I am used to doing as we were before.
But then I could feel something was horribly wrong. I'm sure you felt it too. As you and I were talking, something very apparent, very obvious was amiss. I can't understand you anymore. Or, more exactly, I can't make myself be understood anymore. We both have completely different eyes now, and I'm not sure whether it's always been there all along or something really changed with either of us. If it's the former, then I apologize for having noticed it only now -- things could have been better otherwise; and if it's the latter, then it's probably me who has changed.
You snapped back at me, telling me that I'm always looking for solutions. That when you say something, I always seem to feel the need to respond. That you only need someone to listen. Well, this may be news for you, BUT THAT'S HOW YOU MADE ME BELIEVE YOU NEEDED ME. Ever since we've become close, I developed this habit of lining up the details of your situation and then trying to come up with something that can help you get through it. Don't expect to talk with me and not get a response, BECAUSE I'M NOT AN EMOTIONAL GARBAGE BAG! I'm a living, breathing human being, who is coincidentally also one of your closest friends and whatever you tell me you're going through, I AM BOUND TO BE AFFECTED BY IT, NO MATTER HOW LITTLE IT IS, HENCE THE OVERWHELMING NEED TO HELP YOU OUT OF IT.
Do you know what I'm saying? Again, YOU DRAG ME DOWN. And I'm trying to help you because selfish as it may sound: I DON'T WANT TO BE PULLED DOWN WITH YOU. Not anymore. That's why I help you. I may not always understand you, but at least I'm trying to get us out of whatever shit we're in. The least you can do is exert some effort by helping me pull you up for fuck's sake. If you want to stay, just say so and I'll shut up and leave you alone. I may not like my life enough to live it, but at least I'm miserable because of my own reasons and in my own way and not affecting someone else.
I don't care anymore if this is still considered LOVE or just some cheap and selfish imitation thereof. I also don't care if this is still FRIENDSHIP or if it has already (inevitably, irrevocably, and inexorably) warped to something more twisted. I just want to help you because the ties that bind us make me miserable when you are. AND IF I'M GOING TO BE MISERABLE, IT WILL BE BECAUSE OF ME, AND NOT BECAUSE OF YOU.
PS: How dare you claim that you understand me completely. You don't. You may be smarter than me, and I acknowledge that, but to say or do things that are close to being condescending just to point out your side? I won't stand for it.
