There’s a girl, older than me, but not old enough to be with the one she loves. Like really be with her: in her arms at night, wrapped in a blanket by the fire at Christmas, kissing sweet secrets to each other when they wake up. I know that’s where she wants to be, and the inability to be there is driving her crazy. The contents from her glass have been spilled, therefore leaving the previous half empty glass now completely bare. I no longer know what to say because I’ve heard the complaints all before, but just like then, I still try to offer some comfort. I tell her I’m always there for her in the hopes that she’ll come to me when she’s sad and hurt, and I have a growing desire to make her like me, love me even. She’s not mine, nor am I hers. But I’m her friend, and friends care for one another, don’t they? I’m not allowed to care, and if I do, I’m not allowed to tell her. She’ll tell me that’s not permitted. I want to tell her to go ******** herself; if I want to care about her I can. And anyway, I can’t help it. If I could stop caring, I would. She doesn’t need me; she has her. With her love in her life, I’m only useful when there’s chance that the only thing that makes her happy may leave. Why can’t I make her happy? I am the one who stays up just for her when she’s bored or sad, and I don’t complain when she doesn’t say anything for long periods of time because she’s too busy to talk to someone she only wants in her life every now and then.
But that’s what friends are for.
Friends… ha
No friend would give up that much time for another friend
Stupid me
I don’t know how to be a friend
But none of that even matters
Her lover makes her happy
My lover makes me happy
So every one’s happy, right?
View User's Journal
...
 |
