blank.
"I don't know what I can offer as a friend."
I've heard this line before, I think to myself, from the same person and from Marc a long time ago.
I could say many things.
I could explain the beauty of friendship is not what you can offer, it's not about that. Blahblahblah.
Just being there for one another because you enjoy one another's company is more than enough rabblerabble.
I remember resting my face in my hand, a slow-mo facepalm of shorts and a roll of the eyes tossed in.
This argument is all too familiar to me. I could put up a huge fight, reason after reason of why friendship is important, that it's not about you blahblah, as I said. I did it in the past. Marc used to spit similar lines at me along the lines of I'm not worth being friends with or something and oh, did it it frustrate me.
Upset me.
I think I even cried out of frustration once and wrote a list of 10 reasons he's one of my friends to prove him otherwise. I fought tooth and nail.
I'm like that sometimes. I have phases.
I hate, ever so, to give up and walk away from something so important to me.
I realize my persisting vivacity for the fight, the belief I hold so dearly in friendship, especially long distance, while I can just be taken at my word, and my presence isn't there enough to have an impact, is fading on me to hold it all on my own. So, I begin to reply, and then stop, save a draft, but don't send it.
I'm not going to prove to someone any longer why they should be friends with me, or work to fix things, especially when I've offered it up a billion times over and more with scrapbooks and so many tries abound. Not when I didn't give up and worked against and didn't listen to the advice of friends to give up. To be a bitch. Be meaner. I'm one of the best friends you'll have and have had, and I know that now, and not in some bullshit pretentious manner. Believe me, if I had a tardis, I'd yank you back in time to show you everything that makes it worth being friends, from hanging out in dorm rooms at stony, "psst" when playing basketball, "word", drives home, drives to random places, walking back to G in the rain, being there when no one else was, snowboarding, late night conversations, trying that pencil trick on someone, busting my ass in front of you. Oh wait, there it is.
Maybe when I get back it'll be different, because I'll actually be there, like Olga suggested. Or maybe I should learn to be a bitch, treat people like stones without emotion, as one person suggested.
Nah, I couldn't do that. Ever.
But I can't do this alone again, anymore.
I've heard this line before, I think to myself, from the same person and from Marc a long time ago.
I could say many things.
I could explain the beauty of friendship is not what you can offer, it's not about that. Blahblahblah.
Just being there for one another because you enjoy one another's company is more than enough rabblerabble.
I remember resting my face in my hand, a slow-mo facepalm of shorts and a roll of the eyes tossed in.
This argument is all too familiar to me. I could put up a huge fight, reason after reason of why friendship is important, that it's not about you blahblah, as I said. I did it in the past. Marc used to spit similar lines at me along the lines of I'm not worth being friends with or something and oh, did it it frustrate me.
Upset me.
I think I even cried out of frustration once and wrote a list of 10 reasons he's one of my friends to prove him otherwise. I fought tooth and nail.
I'm like that sometimes. I have phases.
I hate, ever so, to give up and walk away from something so important to me.
I realize my persisting vivacity for the fight, the belief I hold so dearly in friendship, especially long distance, while I can just be taken at my word, and my presence isn't there enough to have an impact, is fading on me to hold it all on my own. So, I begin to reply, and then stop, save a draft, but don't send it.
I'm not going to prove to someone any longer why they should be friends with me, or work to fix things, especially when I've offered it up a billion times over and more with scrapbooks and so many tries abound. Not when I didn't give up and worked against and didn't listen to the advice of friends to give up. To be a bitch. Be meaner. I'm one of the best friends you'll have and have had, and I know that now, and not in some bullshit pretentious manner. Believe me, if I had a tardis, I'd yank you back in time to show you everything that makes it worth being friends, from hanging out in dorm rooms at stony, "psst" when playing basketball, "word", drives home, drives to random places, walking back to G in the rain, being there when no one else was, snowboarding, late night conversations, trying that pencil trick on someone, busting my ass in front of you. Oh wait, there it is.
Maybe when I get back it'll be different, because I'll actually be there, like Olga suggested. Or maybe I should learn to be a bitch, treat people like stones without emotion, as one person suggested.
Nah, I couldn't do that. Ever.
But I can't do this alone again, anymore.