On Friendship (2013)

You don’t make friends- you find them. I’ve only ever had a few in my life, but when I found them I knew immediately. There’s a sort of intimacy, a comfort which is felt like a blanket around two strangers who automatically fall in step- they can speak without fear and find joy in discovering all the ways that humans can understand one another. It ends up feeling as if you’ve already known the person for a very long time.

It’s a rare and wonderful thing to find a friend- someone whose intellect, maturity, and decency you can trust. Someone who gets you in all the best ways. Once you find them, there’s no going back: their company becomes indispensable to your own happiness as the more experiences you share, the more you are bonded together. And gradually, their happiness becomes indispensable to yours, like an extension of your own well-being. Protecting their heart becomes your responsibility, because it’s part of your heart now, too.

But like all good things humans are ever blessed enough to blindly stumble upon, we don’t know how to keep a friendship once we’ve got it. We grow complacent and expect that it always will thrive, maybe because we didn’t do anything to earn it in the first place. We underestimate how much we’d suffer if we lost it, because we just don’t think it could happen. But perhaps worst of all, we get selfish.

Humans have an odd tendency towards ownership- we see something we like and, instead of appreciating it for its beauty, we like to slap stickers on things and say “Mine.” This tendency is extended to our friends: we want to be best friends, we want to know that you like us the most, we want your word that you’ll always be there, we want labels, we want assurance. The funny thing is, the best part about friendship is the sublime level of trust that can be achieved, but there’s no chance for that when you’re holding on too tight. I have been guilty of this far too many times not to know the devastating consequences of squeezing the life out of someone you care about.

Miraculously, true friendships seem to have a tremendous bounce-back rate.


Day 239 – All The Pieces

What they all say is wrong with me
is really not what’s wrong with me.
I swear.

They say it’s love that people lack,
that lack of love is what’s wrong with me
but I keep telling them
that’s not it.

Who can think about love when they are
being thinned out?
I mean like, drawn and quartered?
Scraped over too much bread?
Phased out?

Dropped on the ground and shattered
so everyone can have a piece,
but only one or two pieces each-
and that’s the thing.

When you tell them you wish there was someone
who had all the pieces, they think
you want someone to put you back together,
and I don’t.

But someone else has got to realize
we’re all in pieces, like the points on a compass rose-
the pieces can never touch but they belong
just the same.

And it isn’t love that’s lacking
because the world loves what they can see,
but sometimes you just need someone
who can seeĀ all the pieces,
and knows that you can be North and South
on any given day
and a lot of the times you’re South-East
and catty-corner to West
but you’re never there for long.

The world thinks when someone is smart enough to see
all your pieces, that is love,
and they think lack of love is what I suffer from,
but love is not what’s wrong with me.