What a good friend

Irony loves me. Not that laughable irony that you just shrug your shoulders at. No, the one that follows me is that cold cruel one that creeps up on you at a moment of weakness just when you think that it can’t get any worse.

I have been berating myself for being selfish lately and for thinking so much of my own feelings and not putting others needs before my own. Sometimes it is hard at this age to get outside of yourself. So many of life’s biggest decisions are made right now which is precisely why its so easy to become self centered… and while I understand the necessity of it, I vigorously fight it, or have been trying to at least.

An opportunity for me to put another’s needs before my own presented itself so I was eager to take it. I wanted to be that good friend, that good person who could be empathic and nurturing, no matter the hour of night or whatever other task needed doing. Being selfless is supposed to make you feel good. Sure, there are sacrifices that are made but the general outcome is meant to leave you with that warm fuzzy feeling inside, that one that tells you that you did the right thing…

In some instances I felt as though it was all a dream as he told me about how much his heart was hurting and why it was hurting. It all sounded so eerily familiar, as if each sentence he professed from his lips were being ripped straight from the pages of my heart. If I hadn’t known any better I would have sworn that he had taken the words I had said to him myself all that time ago and used it now, but about her…

A piece of my heart will always belong to him. All he would have to do is give the word and as sick, and weak, and pitiful as it sounds, I know that I would run to him. Tirelessly I have tried to get that piece of my heart back but failure after failure after failure… I gave up. I settled into the idea of being friends and talked myself into believing that was good enough.

Its easy to be a good friend to someone, all that’s really required is being there for them when they need it…. Even if that means listening about how his heart is breaking because the girl he gave it to didn’t know how to care for it. The same girl that removed his heart from my reaches. The same girl that I compare myself to and wonder why it is I don’t measure up. So no matter how much my chest burns and I feel like throwing up, I have to listen to him, because that’s what a good friend would do. No matter how tempted I am to scream out how every ounce of agony he is feeling as a result of her carelessness, is exactly what I feel as a result of his, I wont, I will listen because that’s what a good friend would do. No matter how terrible I think she is and how wrong she is for causing any amount of pain to someone I care about so deeply, I will not say a thing, in fact I will defend her actions… because that’s what a good friend would do… and no matter how many tears I have cried, no matter how many times my heart has panged with sadness, no matter how many times he broke plans with me to go be with her or how many times he ignored me, I wont say a thing… because I’m trying my best to be the friend that he needs me to be.

… but my heart doesn’t feel warm or fuzzy.