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.