I live with this struggle. The one that haunts my thoughts of the conversations we share. Exploring the depths of places I haven’t yet known, or moments of epiphanies that fill my satiation of self betterment.
“Can we be friends?”, I ask myself. Slightly hoping I can be convinced of this fantasy. The answer irrefutably is “I cannot.”
I am too maddened and saddened. I want nothing more than to let go. I often wonder when I will be relieved of this burden; this weight. Struggling to navigate the course of action to free myself from the chains that drag behind me. Every so often they fool me into believing they have fallen, only to realize I have just learned to bear their weight.
“Can we be friends?”, I ask again. The answer, still no.
My life has flourished and I care freely drink wine laughing at the dinner table with friends, when my attention is awakened by your silhouette over my shoulder. Finding myself looking up in concealed excitement, followed by palpable disappointment as I see it was not you. “Are you OK?”, I’m asked. As I quickly laugh and make some illusive excuse to dismiss my look.
“Can we be friends?” An irrefutable, “NO”! I tell myself. “I cannot, we cannot, never”, but still, I think, “Can we be friends?”