Sometimes being a friend means mastering the art of timing. There is a time for silence. A time to let go and allow people to hurl themselves into their own destiny. And a time to prepare to pick up the pieces when it’s all over.
When we first met, I thought you strange, naive, gullible, slightly clueless.
When we talked more, you confirmed all those thoughts.
When we laughed over nothing, I realised it didn’t matter, you found the same things funny and I was the same as you.
When you cried, I thought it a silly matter, but it mattered to you, so I bit my tongue, said nothing but comforted you.
When you came to me with a problem, I first made a joke but managed to help you out.
When you had no problems, we would just sit together in silence and reflect on how that was the best conversation we’d had in a while.
When you were happy, I laughed at the triviality of the cause, but bit my tongue and rejoiced with you.
When you fell, it was either because you weren’t looking or I tripped you, or we were running like idiots for no reason and tripped. That was always fun.
When we burst out randomly voicing each others thoughts, then realised we need to talk to other people for the sake of sanity and still did nothing about it, knowing we wouldn’t have it any other way.
When did all this stop happening?
When did we become such strangers that I no longer know what makes you happy, and why you are sad?
When did we stop including each other in everything we did?
When did the formality start creeping in, and never left?
When did it come to this point that you are leaving, and I can’t think of a single reason why you shouldn’t?
When did I stop caring?
When did you?
When did we get to this juncture that at your goodbye I can’t think of a single thing to say but ‘Good bye, take care and keep in touch’?
When will we realise that none of this matters, because we still have those memories?
When will you realise that, no matter how many others come and go in your life, I’ve always been there, and will continue to, no matter the distance, silently hoping those days will come back?
When will I realise that hoping doesn’t bring back the past, and that I should take solace in the fact that atleast we’re still on talking terms?
When will you realise that after all these years, I probably know you better than you do or I know myself?
When will you realise that you’ve always said you understood me, but you didn’t know a thing about me?
When we’ve come this far, been through so much, said every word needed, cried every tear that welled up, yelled every obscenity we knew, made fun of everything about each other, stuck through the worst of times and held no grudges in, talked it out, I just want to say thank you. I have not regretted anything we’ve been through. I don’t know when we will meet again, whether we will and how much things will have changed by then, but just know that what we have will never change, never wither and we will pick it up where we left off. Every time.