My Sometimes Friend

I am the first to admit I can be a hard friend to have.  I do not return calls.  I don’t like texting.  I talk more to strangers on Twitter than I ever do to you.

The thing is, I never thought I would become the place you go when the good times are over.  I never thought I would be that crutch when life gets you down.  I can search all over when things are going well for you, and I can honestly say, the past five or so years you have been a ghost.

My life fell apart, and I watched you from afar, you had it made.  I gotta say you reached pretty close to where you wanted to be.  I do remember the time I was invited and I said to you that at my age, I would much rather sleep.  I am sorry.  That was shitty.

But, you gotta know, when I came to you and said my life is a mess, I am sick, and you are the only one who knew me; you were the ONLY ONE WHO KNEW ME.  The response of someone looking over your shoulder so you could no longer talk was like a knife.  You had been the closest thing to a best friend besides my best friend.

I understand the dynamics change.  I understand you are not the boy who showed up unannounced, you are a man.  I get that.  Drunken Friday night stories of Corsicana only get me so much leverage.

The thing is, it works two ways.

I rode my shit storm.  On the way, I still said to you, you were my best friend, as close as one can get.  This time, though, I do not think I can ride yours, because in the end, you will be gone again.

I miss my always friend.