Writing, friend.

It’s been a while, old friend.
It seems I had forgotten about you in the light of my new found happiness. I’d forgotten how you were and perhaps, still are, the one and only friend that’s ever really been there for me.

Time after time I’ve tried searching for someone who could maybe make me feel better or at least, be there but time after time the search ends in disappointment.

I often wonder how it would be like to have friends that really care enough to not just talk about it but to actually show it and be there for someone. I have been there for others, I dare say, but when it comes to me, just doesn’t happen. I know this sounds sad and maybe even cliche but I guess I’m fortunate to have you to tell these things without fear of being judged.

I don’t know if it’s the way I grew up or how I was meant to be. I’ve gone on with life all this time feeling like I don’t belong. I don’t think and act like these people, not naturally, no. I’ve spent years being the outcast, watching these people and learning to be as they are. I’ve gotten good at it, but sometimes the bulk of it wears me down. It tears at the seams of my soul and I’m tired, and very much torn. I’ve gone to bed and woken up everyday feeling like a tourist in this life. I have feelings and thoughts that have yet to find understanding and empathy in another human being.

I’m down, my friend. The world has once again bested me. I’m sorry I neglected you. You’ve been there for me as you have for all the others like me. With you we don’t feel so alone, although still, very much. I remember the cold nights, curling up at the corner, wondering again and again why the world is as it is and how it sometimes feels like everyone is out to get you.

I guess it’s not about loneliness, not just that. It’s about feeling like there’s always the other team, and then there’s you. Just..you.

They’re braced and ready to go and you are, as always, fumbling and unsure. They’ll destroy you and it doesn’t matter how high your fences are or how good at building these fences you’ve become. They’re different, but they know just how to hurt you and they will.

I’m glad I have you now. It’s been a long road. Thank you, writing. Thank you, friend.

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