a draft of a letter from a daft friend

To my dearest friend,

If there’s something you’d like to say please just tell me. I’m not good with words. I’m not good with emotions. I’m not good at giving advice. But I try to be a good friend.  I will listen. I love you and because I’m you’re friend I want to protect you and be with you. I want to make whatever is hurting you to stop even if you think that it’s none of my business or I have too many problems of my own. I will always try to find time for you. But I can’t do that if you keep pushing me away. I can’t understand what you’re feeling if you don’t tell me the truth. I try with all that I have to defend you against others. There are days when I just don’t know what to say. Where are you?

I’m sorry if I don’t seem to be listening much these days. I’m sorry if I tend to go with our other classmates. It’s just that I’ve been feeling especially tired and I’m not quite sure how to face you. I’m not quite sure what to say. So I’ve been trying to avoid you.

Friend, I miss you so much. How it has always been easy for you to make me and everyone else around us smile. How you can keep with the world that keeps my head spinning. How you understand stuff I can’t even begin to see or hear. But those are not the things that I miss the most. The most important thing for me is to hear your voice – talking and laughing and enjoying the world around us. I know life is difficult now. I myself have days when I just want to go back to sleep. There are days when I’m thinking of ways how I could just run away from all this. But you know what keeps me going? You and all the friends and family that I have. Because deep inside, after crying my heart out I know that I’m not alone.

Remember last year when I went all silent because my lola died? It was you guys who guided me back. My friends. Not my family – we were all too broken by her loss.  I wouldn’t speak because it felt like a sin to talk about school and gossip when I feel that way. I wouldn’t smile or laugh because it felt fake on my face. That was almost a year ago. Now, I can laugh and talk like everyone else. But it does not mean that the pain is any less. I doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten. Because every time I see an old woman with white hair, I remember lola. I dream for the days I could have been with her. I wish for the years that would have turned her hair gray, then white as those other ladies had.

I don’t  know what’s happening with you right now. Nor do I pretend to understand what you’re feeling. But I do know how it is to feel hurt. I know how it is to feel lost. Please just talk to me. Pull me aside when you next see me and tell me what’s on your mind. And remember that I love you. Always.

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