The tree looked at his friend
through the net of blooming flowers
at his forlorn form,
at the new desert on his skin.
Recalling his own autumn
that is gone and will come again
and wondered what is this friendship,
that makes them smile at each other
even when the same season
decorates one with melting flowers of life
and robs other of all the colors it had.
Tag Archives: friendship
The tree looked at his friend
I tell myself that I have nothing worth saying and that no one wants to listen.
I know this because I have tried to speak my mind
and in best cases I have been told that my mind is not that right,
that the experience that I speak from doesn’t exist for them,
so they will unanimously refuse to acknowledge my narrative.
Or they will smile at me and look down at me.
But I am not their adorable kid who had got her alphabets mixed up.
I am a person equal to them,
and my level of ignorance is equal to them
even if it is not about same things.
I am a person equal to them.
I am a person equal to them
I am a person equal to them…
I have to keep repeating it
or else I might just forget.
Maybe I have already started to forget
because these days I speak in small sentences, waiting for affirmative nods.
I find myself reading everything that they will approve of.
I find myself voicing what they want to hear.
I see myself calling myself stupid before they call me one.
I see myself nod understandingly at everything I disagree with.
I hear the arguments inside me against the favorite opinions of everyone
and they stay inside me,
and everyone is happy.
“You are too young to know better, to know reality.
You are too girlish to see the world for what it is.
You are too sentimental to speak logically.”
I know the wall of judgement I will run into
if I let myself speak.
So you may actually want to listen
and you might not be like others.
But I can’t bring myself to speak about what matters to me.
Cause either I will be wounded at my weakest spot
or I will end up hating you just for being like everyone else
when you ridicule me, interrupt me to correct me
and try to tell me what I should be feeling instead.
I won’t give you a chance
because I can’t take chances with our friendship.
I won’t speak up
because I don’t want to feel more inferior than I already do.
We could never see each other properly
because we busy working hard,
trying day and night
to become something the other wants.
Or at least something that can’t be rejected on face
or fall short of this friendship
that we could never be sure of.
We worked equally hard
to ignore when we saw a crack in each other’s mask,
to ignore the words spoken out of character.
Somewhere we were too hollow, too materialistic, too demanding.
And we knew it was wrong.
We knew we had no right to demand.
We knew we were cruel and we knew we would be forgiven.
If not now, then someday.
Is it possible to love someone in spite of being so wrong?
Is it possible to use such pure words for a transaction gone wrong?
I have friends who didn’t know whom they were befriending. That is why I feel lonely and that is why I am distant.
There used to be a time when I could philosophize about friendship. I don’t do that any longer.
Because having opinions on what friendship is and who friends are is tiring. Tiring because at best maybe it can change the view I have about the world. But it doesn’t change who I am and what I will do when faced with certain situations. Situations that sadly repeat themselves so many time, that it feels like a burden to rethink my own reaction to them.
And it is difficult to voice these frustation because I am the one who is tiring others out.
Once I could dismiss these thoughts as my wrong perception about myself or a kind of self-hatred. I believe that the only thing that makes me stay in a relation is need. I want people to need me. It would be better to say I can understand if people befriend me out of their own self-interest. And I will know what to do, to continue that. I want to be given priority because I can deliver their expectations. Things go well till this point.
But when they are position to not need me. I feel that I am a tool whose use has expired. I feel them looking at me, occupying a space in their life, and thinking how to get rid of me, so that they can bring new furniture. Now even if they continue to treat me as they have always done, I can only look at it as kindness of person or formalities that I have never been able to get my head around.
I will not text you first, because you may have tried hard to get slip this distance between us, so that you don’t have to become a bad person.
No issues, I will become the bad person, if you don’t want to. If that makes life convenient for you.
I will answer your calls out of blue and will say the things that friends are supposed to say. I will politely decline or postpone meetings that are half-hearted. So that you can feel good about remembering to invite a friend you didn’t want to.
I will not tell you of all the times I needed a friend. Times I looked for you, while you stood steps away from me, trying to be everyone’s friend.
I will get rid of this luggage, these unnecessary feelings, when people I trusted even when I didn’t want to trust, seek me only when they had no one to turn to.
I am sorry you thought I am strong enough to not need friend.
I am sorry if you thought I do not take things to heart.
I am sorry for cutting our ties, for being a person who cannot be loved once their use ends. Or for being a person you keep as Plan B.
Once I would have believed that I am at fault for pushing people out.
But not now, when I see you standing at the door, not wanting to come in, not wanting to leave my life, not wanting to close the door. Just in case I become useful again.
I have not become a loner. I have not become anti-social.
I just refuse to be kept in dark only because you need a candle.
The life that runs ahead of me
and the one that I take and drag behind
all center around the habits and frienships
built for the conveniences
of a sorrow that I cannot date.
When love, friendship and family
were no big words
just words, like any other words
and it didn’t matter
which one mattered more,
which one came first,
it didn’t matter
what loyalty is , what betrayal is.
When I didn’t know these words
things didn’t hurt so much.
When I didn’t know these words
I loved my friends better,
I loved my family better.
Without looking for anything more than
simple peasure of their company
and single prayer of their well being.
But when these words
were laid out on paper,
on my heart,
along with conditions,
they seemed like an agreement,
a selfish transaction.
And I was no longer sure
whether I wanted any of it.