December 15, 2005

  • Missing Parts

    Sometimes, I miss those sweet whispers of long forgotten secrets in the
    wee hours of a morning framed only by a hint of white stars and a
    thumbnail moon, laying in sleeping bags so close we could hear the
    other breathe in the silence that surrounded us. Sometimes, I miss
    pinky swears on high flying yellow swings, feet hanging in the light
    blue sky as we fell backwards back to earth. Sometimes, I miss the beat
    of rain on the glass of that moving metal placed upon rubber, whilt
    deep sighs and heaves of disappointment was run over by chortling
    laughter that fogged up windows. Sometimes, I miss those long
    conversations, lasting for hours, laughing and crying and we never
    stopped listening to each other. Sometimes, I miss memorized movie
    lines, bolting out song lyrics, painting nails, doing make overs….
    sometimes, I miss it. But mostly I miss the fights that brought us
    closer together, the inside jokes, the breaking curfew…

    I mostly miss having a best friend, someone that I know will never
    betray me or forget about me, someone who will support me in everything
    I do – no matter what it is I decide is the best for me.

    It has all changed. Long roads, long drives, miles away – further and
    further – so representative of what this has become. Promises
    forgotten, memories forsaken, pictures lost, notes thrown away. What
    used to be will never be again. I embrace this change as hard as it has
    become. Growing up sometimes means growing apart, and often times, the
    fight to keep death alive never works. Something replaced a bond we
    swore would always be there, something has torn apart a contract of our
    hearts, something has come in and taken it away.

    I have come to terms with it all. I have actually let go – just enough
    to let it all go free. But my life is just hitting the hardest times I
    will probably ever have… and I feel so alone. So alone with just
    myself, a pen, and lots of paper. I just want to write – all these
    feelings I am having I cannot express to anyone else. To write about
    this loneliness, yet this love I feel for another – two of the
    strongest feelings I have ever felt at the same time…

    I have one thing to hold onto right now. And that one thing isn’t even
    close to me. That one thing feels so far away, yet fills my heart – my
    mind – my entire being – with something I have never felt before. Never
    want to feel with anyone else. I am starving for his touch.

    But, sometimes, still I starve for the best friend. And maybe I have
    found that in him. I shrug my shoulders with an unknown certainty of
    the future. I just ask for strength.

Comments (4)

  • Are you me? This could have been me. This is me. My God, this hurt to read. And yet, it felt good too, you know? Like walking to a place you’ve never been before…it’s scary, but you can’t help but keep walking, because maybe it is beautiful there, in the unknown place.

    I miss my best friend too. But maybe he will come back to me. Maybe yours, or someone even more lovely, will come to you. I once heard, that God never gives us second best…that He only gives us another first best. This gives me hope. Maybe it will for you as well.

    I am very glad I am reading you. You write so honestly. With flow, like poetry. With vulnerability, like therapy. It makes me feel not so alone. Thank you for writing this. Kisses, Kate

  • I must concur, all of us can’t be the same, but how is it tha tyou know exactly what I want to say. I lock myself up and write and write becuase the one I depended on to become a new best friend to fullfil the role of those missing parts isn’t willing to become that. It’s only a matter of 10 days until I see my best friends. I miss them so much.

    Beautifuly done.

  • I thought you were talking about a girl…your best friend, and I don’t think you need to be more clear in your writing. It was the feelings that you were conveying that made me feel it. I like the way you write. You have a gift for it and it is so good that you are using it. Kisses, Kate

  • I cannot tell you how many lonely days were conquered by putting pen to paper.

    Those times were tough, and the days long… but at the end of it, I became a better person and a better writer.

    Moving post.

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