One seventeen of the twentieth of eleven; What I learned from the word ‘friend’


From the day I learned to say “friend” to knowing the meaning of “best”, this is what I learned

I learned that friends give you your favorite food or your favorite crayon because it will make them look nice

Friends take it as an insult when you’re better than them at something

Friends don’t call you at 2am to tell you about something good that happened

or something they thought they’d never do but they did

They call you when they’re killing time and just because they can’t get over the feeling.

Friends forget about you when you have nothing to give them.

I learned that friends always put the blame on you until you feel like it’s really all your fault

and they wont take the bullet for you

they will wait until you bleed and then they’ll enter the picture as the savior when you’ve actually already helped yourself up on your own.

I learned that friends forget about you most of the time

I learned that friends don’t care

I learned that friends leave.

And as much as you think it’s easy to replace a friend

Losing someone you actually considered as one, I learned, is as painful as having a bone in your finger break after a great fall from the monkey bars your teacher warned you not to climb because you’re still too small

or losing your first pet, or peeing your pants in public while everyone laughs at you and it felt like forever

or losing someone in your family.

Losing a friend, I learned, causes far more pain than having your heart broken by your first love.

Because having a friend is where you learned to trust

where you first cared for someone more than yourself

where you sacrificed sleep just to listen to their rants or feelings about this guy they just met an hour ago.

I once read a tweet that asks the question:

“Why is that no one ever talks or writes about a broken friendship?”

This, I learned, is because it only takes you back to all the things you’ve been through

and makes you wonder why you drifted apart

and why you both let it happen without doing anything to patch things up.

I learned that as much as a poem about a lost love can open up old wounds,

writing about a lost friendship can cut you a new one again.



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