You will probably never read this letter, but here goes …
It’s a horrible feeling to know that you can’t do anything to help a person, but be there for them. In fact, I don’t believe I have ever felt so helpless. Of course, I want the very best for you. I always have. You are my friend, and there isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t think about you.
I’m not going to sit here and judge you. That’s not what friends do. I mean, who am I to judge? Let’s face it, I am far from perfect. I, too, have woken up with dark clouds of regret hovering over me, ready to disperse their downpour of shame. I, too, have done things that I’d rather bury deep in the graveyard of past regrets. Heck! You’ve been there with me, in said graveyard, helping me rid those sins.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that nobody is perfect. We all make mistakes. Sooner or later, we all find ourselves with a shovel in our hands, burying our wrongs six foot under.
But as we know, burying our problems will never truly set us free. We’d be kidding ourselves if we thought the darkness of our past won’t come back to haunt us. But yet, you continue to bury your sadness. The same sadness that has you reaching for any remedy you can grab your hands on. An ephemeral relief. You have grown comfortably numb, but yet, ceaselessly lost.
We all become lost in this big old world sometimes.
You, my friend, have been lost for quite some time. It was pretty much written in the stars that you would find yourself sitting where you are now. Most likely surrounded by the fragments of last night’s party. You can erase the evidence into black bags, but you can’t erase the fact that this lifestyle is slowly killing you. You can’t erase the fact that the party finished long ago, and the need to prolong it is, purely, to fill this emptiness in your heart.
I’ve watched you lose everything; your pride, self-respect and most heartbreakingly, your children. I have watched the charismatic, bubbly, full-of-life friend I once knew, wither into a shadow of her former self. No sparkle in her eyes, just hollowness. All that remains is sadness.
It’s been a month since I saw you last. A month since the harsh reality sunk in that I am losing my friend.
As much as I long to be there for you, I can’t. I can no longer bear the pain of seeing you on this path of self-destruction. I can no longer bear to see the person I once loved, still love, continue to hit rock bottom, after rock bottom, after rock bottom. I can no longer bear to watch you tread this precarious path, every step a timebomb waiting to explode.
It breaks my heart.
I often wonder, at what point will you realise that you have a problem?
Maybe you don’t have a problem? You keep telling me so. Maybe I am being over the top? You keep telling me this, also. But if this was the case, then why do I see nothing but the cold lingering sadness of a once vibrant soul? If you didn’t have a problem, then why are your eyes holding back oceans, barricaded by this facade you put on for the world? If you didn’t have a problem, then why do you keep running? Escaping? Forgetting? Suppressing? Lily-padding from substance to substance?
What are you so afraid of?
You forget that I know you. Truly know you. You forget that I can see past the masquerade.
You are no circus act, my friend. So why do you surround yourself with clowns? Why do you allow them to laugh at you? Leech off you? Drag you deeper into the pits of despair?
You might pretend to the rest of the world that you are okay and that you have everything under control. But I am no fool! You tell me not to worry. But how can I not? You tell me that this is just another blip you are going through and that you will come to the other side. But I am dubious. You tell me that this is just YOU. But you are wrong!
This is NOT you.
Your appearance, your voice, your behaviour.
THIS IS NOT YOU!
The friend I knew, wouldn’t have dared to leave the house without perfecting her makeup, let alone walked the streets wearing last night’s brawl upon her face. The friend I knew wouldn’t have allowed strangers into her home, let alone let them inhale drugs from her crockery. The friend I knew valued her life, not put it at risk.
You are so much more than this rubble you pass off as life.
When did you become so lost? So troubled? So trapped in an existence that, deep down, you know will be the end of you?
How I long for you to break free.
But this is no fairy-tale. There is no prince lurking in this far-from-enchanted fantasy you blanket yourself in.
No one can save you, but you.
I’m not going to tell you how to live your life. This is YOUR life and you can do with it what you wish. Perhaps you don’t want to be saved? As much as it pains me inside, I don’t blame you for the paths you take. I don’t judge you for the ones you have taken. I mean, how can I criticize you for merely killing your sadness? I, do, however, feel great heartache watching you drown when I know you can save yourself. When I know that life doesn’t have to be this way. When I know that you are stronger than this!
But only ‘YOU’ have the power to say….
THIS IS NOT HOW THE STORY IS GOING TO END.
I know that my words won’t make a different, but I simply want to tell you that I miss YOU. I miss our chats over freshly brewed cuppa’s. I miss the side-splitting laughs over glasses of wine. I miss talking random shit with you until the early hours.
My tea buddy, my party pal, my partner in crime. I miss YOU!
I hope someday you will find the happiness you deserve.
I hope someday you will let reality, be reality.
And I KNOW that someday, be it soon or in years to come, I will see that sparkle in your eyes once again.
I will see MY Friend again, and I will welcome her with open arms.
“Our situations do not define us, what defines us, is how we rise after we have fallen” – Unknown.