“Being with you and not being with you is the only way I have to measure time” *
I don’t know when exactly did I start to question, to doubt almost anything, to put too little trust on you. It has nothing to do with ‘you’, actually. In fact, it is just me trying to protect my own self not to get hurt anymore by anyone. I’ve got enough of it. 🙂
You know, it’s always hard for me to believe in the notion of ‘friendship’, of course, not to a stranger who suddenly popped up and managed to be friends with me. It goes the same way with you, I guess. But, didn’t it always go that way? I mean, friends are firstly strangers to each other, huh? 🙂
The thing is, I just can’t find the exact ‘term’ to define our relationship, so far. I don’t know if you -ever- reckon me as a friend of yours, since I know very well how much doubtful you are in trusting sincerity of a friend. You once complained how actually you lost trust in a friendship; a real friendship regardless the mutual benefit you may share, a real friendship in time of joy and sorrow, a friend in need, at any cost. You don’t have a real friend, except one. That’s what you told me, back then.
Who am I to you, then?
This question has been tackling in my mind over and over again. I don’t know why I should bother that much with such trivia; thinking of what other thinks of me; what you think of me. Well, it’s just not that trivial, for me. It never is. Who I am to you, I wonder… Did you ever regard me as a friend? Or am I merely another passer-by in the life of yours, dear friend?
Who am I to you?
Countless times I was questioning the possibility if I ever have been regarded as your friend. Countless times I tried to convince myself if I ever managed to become one of your friends. (Okay, it’s silly, I know). 😀 Frequently I tried to escape life from you, to distant myself from you for a little while; hoping that it would help me answer that bothering question. Yet, frequently, I got hurt for no apparent reason. Why is it that hard just to be your friend? Why am I this scared just thinking of the idea that we’ve never even been real friends to each other? That you never even counted me as a friend…
It is love, I will have to hide or flee.*
No matter how many times I tried to keep away from you, I would always want to get closer to you. It’s just like there’s something missing in life without you being there. It’s just like no matter how hard I try to bring another to fill the empty space of yours, it would never work out. The joy you bring, couple of stories you share, it would never be the same with others. It has to be you, in the end.
It is love, I know it;
The anxiety and relief at hearing your voice,
The hope and the memory,
The horror at living in succession.*
Am I expecting too much?
Well, I know, it’s just too bad to doubt the sincerity of a friend. Yet in the end you and life around you put me in such a confusing state where I cannot even tell which is real and which is imaginary. I cannot ensure myself that it would ever be the same: the way I see you, and the way you see me. I’m just uncertain that you are truly honest in every single thing you said, you did to me. You are so confusing. Our relationship is so confusing.
But, aren’t I being not sincere this way? The way I demand such sincerity from you, doesn’t it indicate I want something in return from you? Things like pure ‘recognition’, attention, care, love; things a friend would love to have. It’s funny, you know. I’ve always thought that friends wouldn’t need to care for such thing -as questioning sincerity, at all. We’re friends because we trust each other. We love, we care, and we listen, without even thinking of anything in return. We give freely. That’s what a friend for. So, it’s just strange to be in this state. The state where I want you to look at me the same way I look at you…
Sorry if things seem to get more complicated, lately. I just couldn’t bear this fear of loosing you, a good friend of mine. It may sound childish, but I just want to convince myself that you would still care if all of sudden I disappear from your entire life. I just need to convince myself that I’m that ‘important’ to you. Well, I guess in the end I would need to care no more of such sincerity thingy. I wouldn’t want to think anymore of what you might think of me; who I am to you.
You would always be my friend. You would always be the one I want to share couple of stories of my complicated life. You would always be the one to whom I shall listen another couple of bizarre stories of much-more-complicated life. I would always want to laugh with you in times of joy. I would always want to bring you solace in times of sorrow. I would always want to spend much more time with you.
Because being with you and not being with you is the only way I have to measure time.*
*Verses from “The Threatened One”, a poem by Jorge Luis Borges