It’s sad to know that the people who can hurt you the most, are the ones closest to you. Even more so when they do it out of love and cannot comprehend just how much damage they’re doing to you. Over and over again.
Words. They hold such an immense power. Imagine saying anything in the precise order and with the right enunciation to successfully change something; imagine having the capacity to move others emotionally and rationally; imagine pronouncing divinely vast secrets through a limited alphabet; imagine my voice while you are reading this. That voice is employing words that resonate inside your head. They each have a meaning and together, they hold the power to make you imagine everything you’ve just read. Words. Aren’t they just magnificent?
There are some people out there that really need to chill out and eat some pizza ‘cause I ain’t about dealing with your shit.
To me, you were a myth. Sure, we talked and laughed and shared secrets and insecurities, yet we’d never really met in person. Your pictures lacked humans emotions, it was impossible to connect all your stories to your face. But then I saw you in person and you saw me. Suddenly you existed and the myth came to life. All the stories made sense and your pictures were filled with emotions. I wished I could have said “hi”, but you kept walking, even though you recognized me. I didn’t get to hear your voice, maybe that’s why I’m still wondering whether I really saw you or you are just a figment of my imagination…
And as big things often go, people forgot about it. They continued to live their daily lives full of privileges while other in the other side of the world didn’t know whether they would make it through the night or not. They are being killed, massacred, slaughtered and executed; yet the world keeps spinning, waiting for the “next big thing” to distract them and to remind them, if only for a few days, that they are humans as well.
Sometimes I think I should try to fix our relationship, but you always manage to put words in such an order in a sentence that I can’t ever believe we’re supposed to be related by blood. You make me feel ashamed of having to call you my family. Maybe you can’t choose the family you’re born into, but you can choose the family you decide to surround yourself later in life. Don’t worry, I’m not going to choose you.
Tonight nothing really happened. I woke up and said that today was going to be a good day. Now I’m lying in bed and you know what? Even if nothing really happened, I feel like did. Somehow, today feels like my life is finally starting. I’m finally able to say that I’m living my life.
Sometimes I send myself a message containing all the words I wish everyone would tell me. I’d like to believe that’s what it means to be your own friend…
We are best friends, but both of us know that our friendship is lost. It’s like an empty shell which we still maintain out of comfort than anything else. The shell is nothing but formalities and nostalgic memories. Memories which remind us of people who no longer exist, for we have lived such different lifestyles. Yet we still come back to our friendship with a love that’s a natural reaction institutionalized by another time. We both know the shell is empty, but neither of us wants to admit we’re no longer best friends.