My best friend, my stranger

You're my bestfriend and I'm not yours.

I never knew much about you; or why you turned out like you did - but I watched it happen. Sometimes when we would sit on the dock together, just outside my cottage, you would start to tell me about why you are like you are. You would run your fingers through semi-damp hair and look at me like you look at something that you have decided to trust - but just for the moment. Most of the time you would smile just as the words started to escape your mouth; stopping the secret short and undiscovered. I never complained. Sometimes you would tell me later; sometimes I would find out on my own. You always remain a big mystery .

You told me about two weeks after meeting you that you were different, I could already tell. Your eyes were a vivid green at the moment; as if sparkling emeralds reflected off the surface and stayed there for the day. When you came crying into my arms that one night your eyes were a dull  blue and filled with rivers of wetness, my sleeve dried your pain and you fell asleep on my couch. The weeks that followed - the weeks that Hunter was gone, your eyes were grey and painfully beautiful. You spent almost every night at my house during that time.

It was then that I noticed the pills you took every morning, you said the doctor prescribed them to ease the constant feeling of "smallness". Depression, I later understood is what you meant.

Once Hunter had been gone for a while you moved on to Bryan. I knew you still loved him though, Hunter was still there. When you kissed Bryan it wasn't meant for Bryan; you were kissing Hunter. I didn't say anything - you always got mad when I insisted he was still a part of you. I wasn't even surprised when you cheated on him for Hunter. Back to the couch, again I dried your tears. "Stupid, weak mistake" you said. Love is what I'd call it.

I still hardly knew you, 6 months later and you were a stranger - a stranger who was my best friend. I knew you danced contemporary, I knew you sung and wrote your own music and lyrics, I knew you were fighting depression (for a cause you never told me), and I knew you could never be alone. Never.You always clung onto somebody - your lifeboat. When you couldn't hold onto Hunter you came to me, and even though Bryan never let you down you still went back to Hunter. It's just how you are; and it makes you so vulnerable that each time you get broken you cling even harder - afraid to be hurt again. I caress you like a baby - that was the second time Hunter broke your heart.

You never went back to him after that. "I don't want to love him, ever." You said between sobs. You buried your head in my chest and we sat on the same couch that you had slept in countless nights before. I began to know the flow of your tears as if they were meant to be mine. You didn't take your pills for the next two days.

"I want to feel it. I don't want to be numb - I want to experience it so I know that I don't ever want to go back." I didn't stop you. You locked yourself up in your room for those two days - I could hear your keyboard sounding out notes almost inaudible to my ears. Your voice - your beautiful singing voice, escaped through the closed door and I could hear you sing your own sad songs.

Your mom is nice - I like her. She brought me blankets and pillows so I could camp outside your door. I did.

In the middle of the third night I heard you open your door - my clock said 3:14am, the one on your drawer said 3:21am. I walked into your room and slept on your bed - I had been sleeping on your floor for a while. I traced little heartshapes into your back shoulder as you told me everything that was on your mind - one of the only times that you had faced me without walls and with complete honesty.

Things went well for a while. Then one day you went to the hospital - the doctors didn't know what was wrong with you. You wouldn't eat and couldn't walk. The doctors said it wasn't depression. I never really found out what it was.

I stayed in the waiting room while your two other bestfriends from school sat across from me. The smell of recycled air and rubber gloves travelled up my nose and I winced. At 9:58am the next morning they let you out with more pills. You got into your best friends' car and I went home to do homework. The ride was lonely and I had a lot of questions.

You changed schools - you couldn't keep up with your singing scholarship program anymore. You had missed too much school and the work was overwhelming you.

It was like you changed people too.

We never went to the cottage anymore - things were way too busy with my school and your unstableness. You turned almost bi-polar. I don't know why, but you couldn't make up your mind for anything. You pushed away your two other best friends and went back to the hospital twice more. Something about your blood didn't have enough iron in it - I never remember the name of your disorder.

Last weekend you dyed your hair blond. I think it looks lousy - but I still love running my fingers through it at night. You trust me less now, I feel. But I like the guessing game I have in my mind. Your father doesn't like me; I think - you're always at my house. Well, your stepfather, that is. I don't think I'll ever meet your real father. That reminds me - I still want to ask you why you send back his presents every Christmas.  

Sometimes in the morning I'd wake up and go to the couch you fell asleep on last night, only to find crumpled sheets and an empty room. I wonder if you've gone "figuring yourself out" as you like to say. Most of the time I think you go walking around the neighbourhood in the brisk morning air. I know this because I've seen you walk out many times before (when you made too much noise leaving), then you come back a few hours later and fall back to sleep.

Yesterday we sat on the floor of my room, listening to the latest and greatest from Escape the Fate. Abandoned cards lay scattered around my carpet and you leaned against the edge of my bed. You closed your eyes and breathed deeply - I shut off the music because I thought you were having an anxiety attack. You said no. You said you were just thinking how to thank me. I looked at your eyes and saw a beautiful, broken soul and smiled. You said one day if you found yourself you'd tell me all about you, you said that if I waited long enough maybe I could understand like I wish I could. You fell asleep in my bed that night and I slept slumped in my green armchair. I woke up to the sound of a door closing, and when I saw my empty sheets I understood. I looked out my window and saw through the dark morning light your figure walking down my street with your hands in your pockets and your head up, looking at the sky. 4:59am said my clock. I plopped into my bed and went back to sleep.

You're still a mystery to me - I'll never stop wondering and I'm sometimes too afraid to ask. You'll always be my best friend and I wonder if you'll always be a stranger.