Speaking of Friends in Walking with God, Courting, and Talking to Jay

  • Oct. 16, 2018, 3:22 a.m.
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  • Public

So here I am again, old friend, having conversations with you in my head that we will probably never have. I haven’t the courage to try for a connection with so many people around. I barely have the courage to speak at all. Even when I do, as soon as toy approach, I am intimidated by you. So worried I’ll say the wrong thing. Worried I’ll hurt or offend you. You have every right to be so guarded against me now. I so miss the times when you weren’t. When you were blunt and honest and open. Even when you bite like a venomous snake it is better than a fake smile and a closed conversation. I miss when you actually wanted to hear my responses. When you actually asked questions. When you tried to know me. I wish I hadn’t been so bad then. Too hurt and afraid, too guarded and scarred to let anyone in. I still need you.

I can function without you, that’s true. I’m independent and pretty strong considering all I’ve faced so far, all I’ve faced mostly alone. But it would be so much easier to heal with you there guarding me like you did then. Goading me along to better myself, encouraging me, complimenting the strangest things.

Now you pretend you dont know me, not have any interest in beginning to. So I am cut off from the others too. Yes I have my own friends and they are amazing, but it would be so exhillirating for me to be welcomed into your group, even if not by you. Those people, you chose them well, gems that shine bright. I wish I were also seen as a gem in your eyes. An accessory to be shown off. “This is my old friend” youd say and I would be so very happy. To be invited. To be included. To feel wanted in the circle of friends instead of being the unwanted spectator. It’s what I always am it seems. The girl who is there watching, but not invited to participate. I miss the old guitarist who would try to include me. So nice. I hope I did not offend him. They all run away in the end. They see something wrong with me. I see it too. I feel broken, but even broken can be beautiful.

I know I have more important things to think about and do, but I so miss talking to you. What I’d give to have that chance again, every day. I used to be able to talk to you anyday. You would let me say anything. But I couldn’t then. I had to keep my walls up. I couldn’t let you in. I’d give almost anything now to have the opportunity to throw open the gates and let you have tea in the garden of my soul. I’d reveal every unique flower to you, tell you anything you want to know, only come in and stay a while. I’ve missed you so.

A status hard to achieve.
You are one of the few.
You’ve proven yourself.
There in my time of need.
And now, my dear,
I hope someday you see,
You are untouchable,
No one will take you away from me.
A privileged place,
More than you know.
I’ve hidden all my many uses,
But to you,
I would show.
Whatever you need,
I will do my best for you.
If you let me show you,
I can be a very good friend to you.
Those who watch closely know,
I always have been.
and now that quality,
Is is yours to own.
Say the word,
And I’ll be there.
Youd be surprised,
All the worth hidden here.

I hope someday you know,
Someday you let me in.
I hope someday to show you,
I can be a very good friend.

Until then,
Love you old friend.

Deleted user October 16, 2018

I hate this stuff. So much left unsaid.

LachrymoseBeauty Deleted user ⋅ October 28, 2018

Oh? You mean the writing itself? Or the situation?

Deleted user LachrymoseBeauty ⋅ October 29, 2018

Situation. I would never ping on someone about leaving things unsaid in their writing. ;)

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