Frienship is an oddity.
It used to excite, but superficially. Any keenness elicited came from novelty.
Enthusiasm bled away from the novelty, leaving am empty apologetic memory.
Used to be friends; marred by a misunderstanding. Now, we hardly talk, fearful of mentioning the tainted past.
Used to tell each other everything; separated by time and distance. Now we have only shallow conversations, uncertain of what is relevant.
Some friendships remind us of volatile bonds. How long do good things last?
Some incessantly deride our willingness to trust. "Oh, you hurt yourself? Told you so."
Some make us shudder like the essay you wrote in high school which you obviously tried too hard to impress.
I think half of my present thinks about the past.
Seriously Andrew, how can you like this writing? It depresses so much.
1 comment:
Your site is on top of my favourites - Great work I like it.
»
Post a Comment