to my best friend; all of this is for you
i hate nights like this.
those nights where you're sweating and you can't sit still and even your own bed feels wrong and your own skin feels uncomfortable and your mind won't just shut the hell up. you start thinking about something and suddenly the flood gates open, leaving you vulnerable to a feelings attack, invading you through your emotional weaknesses and draining you of your emotional strengths. suddenly, you're infested and the only thing that sounds like relief is the sound of you balling your fucking eyes out until all the sudden you're inexplicably some version of okay.
the catch is i used to knock on your door on nights like this. hell i come to you all of the time. i stood in front of you at graduation. you almost got me in trouble in class because you kept making me laugh in Contemporary Moral Values. you were the first person i played catch with many springs. i set my alarm to wake you up hours before i had to get up so you wouldn't be late to the Today Show. you solved the puzzle of the first one not wanting me, felt the pain of the second one breaking my heart, and help(ed) me navigate the path of unresolved feelings and tortured romance keep my hanging onto a third. you knocked on my door to use my toilet once because you woke up and yours was missing when the SHU repair wizards were fixing it. i accidentally ate peanuts in your bed even though you're superallergic and we had to wash the sheet. we were never softball champions. we were beer pong champions of the WORLD. you've been to my family reunion. i HATE when any girl treats you less than THE BEST GUY EVER. i returned home from NYC in tears and instead of walking 10 minutes back to campus, you picked me up--in your ghostbusters halloween costume, telling everyone you were an exterminator. not long before that, i told you my worst pain outside during one of the million fire drills we had.
you were literally the first shoulder i cried on in college. that vivid moment still pounds in my head, me hysterical in your room-connecting, joint bathroom with more mascara than i even knew i wore dripping a river down your pinstriped shirt, which excuse the description, was bathing in my own snot. i offered to get it drycleaned and you laughed at me. you were the first person i knew i could turn to for advice or a solid hug or apparently, a hardy cry. it was a startling moment, solidifying that awkward line of stranger-friend to, i-havent-known-you-that-long-but-you-feel-familiar-friend--one that you may only experience in beginning of college. that time is such a strange magical daze of discovery. suddenly you are living with thousands of strangers, sifting through who will be best friends, who you will say hi to on your floor, and who you are going to dodge in the cafeteria during a less than mediocre meal. i never had any questions about you though--i didn't even flinch.
and now my tears are simply reflecting the unbearable pain you are in--infinitely greater than the pain i am in. with all the thinking and overthinking i do, you'd think i might creep toward the edge of saying something profound. i guess it's not that i'm scared of saying something wrong, but i just don't know what to say that's something right. everything i want to tell you sounds like a shitty hallmark card or a quote that is probably incorrectly attributed to Winston Churchill. as well as i know you, and much as we've been through as friends, i still don't know what to say. i've been through a lot, but i'm not going to say "i know how you feel, mann" because i don't know how you feel. i've never been through this, and even if i had, pain is not uniform. i can tell you it gets better, and it does, but who gives a shit right now? maybe the more valuable piece of advice is to tell you its okay to be not okay for a while. not that it matters what i say now, it will all be a blur. i can tell you everything happens for a reason, even if we don't know what that reason is, but right now every reason you can think of doesn't outweigh the pain, and seems like a wicked, cruel outcome. i believe it does, but it's not something you believe until you feel it, and it's not something you feel until you are on the other side of healing. i can tell you that the only thing you can do during these times is cling to everyone you have, use them for all they offer, and don't take a single moment for granted ever. but my god, you never have. you are one of the most genuinely appreciative people i have ever met, and you passion for life is simply unsurpassed. the only thing i can do is tell you i'm here. it's one of the few things that doesn't come at a cost, the doesn't beg questions, and should never make you feel angst. i've never called on you and not gotten a response. i can only hope i show you the slightest sliver of what you've shown me.
all of my hope and heart.
-k.
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