Not Friends

Not Friends

Not Friends

Sometimes you find that your friends aren’t really your friends anymore. Time changes everyone and apparently so do distance and pandemics. Waking up at five thirty in the morning to go pee should be a normal thing, with no crises to deal with when doing so. Alas, I find myself in the throes of the early brisk morning, cold air nipping at my toes. My cat curls himself beneath the covers and pulls his paws over his eyes so as not to see my fury, freezing in the coldness of the morning and my friends' hearts. Chilled, I wonder who they are and if I would recognize them if we met in a strange place. I fear that I no longer know them, or maybe the fear is more that I no longer wish to know them.

 

Chosen family means you can choose new ones, yes? My choices change over time as does most everything and everyone. I left the land I found my home on, and wheeled myself north to get away from torture and grief. How grief can follow you across nations is remarkable. 

 

Confusing, it is more than confusing. It is a heart break that I suppose I knew in my heart had begun long ago. It’s rare to say you have a million friends. It’s rare to say you have more than a few. I thought I was lucky in the friend department, and I certainly am, but in new ways that I had not considered before.

 

There are many times I wish I had been more in communication with the friends I left behind, in several towns full of bad decisions and broken hearted memories. The world of social media and facebook in particular, with its nasty way of offering you reminders of things you had consciously not given thought to… a tragic sort of lego under your mind’s foot, padding quietly through your memories you trod on something sharp and painful. It is connected to today, to the actions of people you felt safe with. People you had bragged about being the safest people you had thus found. It is connected to memories of other days, other losses. It is part of who you are becoming, and the act of speaking up for oneself, for one's lover, for one's chosen youths, is a brave act of courage. So the question for myself today, is how important is Facebook, in keeping connections alive, that I no longer wish to keep alive?

 

Growing tomatoes can be quite easy, but sometimes the seeds don’t start right, they’re stunted somehow. When that happens, I set the plant in direct sun, and let it die. I am not sure why I leave it there, but I do. A neon sign of neglect, a neon sign of reminders, the plant is dead and dying, let it die. It may serve as a reminder of my neglect, or as a half hearted attempt at teaching myself not to do it again. Either way, it is tragic, and sadistic in a very minor way.

 

There are friendships I will lay to rest, and there are friendships that I have let die already. I have no regret in taking a stance for my own world peace. We can come from a place of love, and it can be seen as the opposite. Leaving things behind me, as I move forward, and grow into my strength. 





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