Medicine

A ramble about friendship and loss.

Few things are as soothing to the soul as talking with your best friend, especially when you are an emotional clam like me. On the outside I am hard and strong, desperately clamped shut so that my delicate interior is safe. I’ve never been able to share my self with others. I can feign friendliness all day, many people think I’m an extrovert because I am a friend to many people. What they don’t see, is that I’ve not allowed any of those people to be a friend to me.

I know it’s not healthy. I should be able to open up to others, accept help, support and love. I. Just. Can’t. Is it fear? Lack of trust? It just never came naturally to me. Sure, I’ve had people call me their best friend, and to them I was. But I always did the listening, and I shared just enough to make them feel close to me too. I enjoy being there for people, helping them grow and develop into their best selves.

It wasn’t until I placed myself halfway across the world from home that I found someone who made me feel as comfortable as I seem to make others feel. Unfortunately, due to visa issues she was ripped away from me prematurely. We’re both rubbish and communicating long distance so we do a terrible job communicating with each other, oh but when we do, the world changes. All the stress melts away as she detangles the knots in my heart. We take equal turns fixing each other, there is no judgment. Only acceptance, understanding, and love.

When I first met her, I hardly even spoke with her. I was transferred to a different location and didn’t expect to ever see her again. After a few months she got transferred to the same place. We became neighbors. At first I spent time with her in the way I usually do with people, to help them. However, somehow we started to open up to each other, one stitch at a time. After a while we confided with each other that we both held the same fatal defect. The burning desire to be known, but the inability to share our true selves with others.

At first it was terrifying. Each time I would share something new with her my heart would race, I’d stammer over my words, which is an odd feeling for someone known for being extremely articulate. She, in turn, would also open up with the same level of reluctance. It became easer and easer and now I feel I can tell her anything. She is my best friend. And then she left. I miss her all the time.

Return

The Least Technical Poem I’ve Ever Written.

I went back to the place we fell in love

And roamed the crowed streets alone

The sights

The smells

I thought it might feel empty without you

Lonely

But it was so alive

I felt so alive

 

I went back to the place we fell in love

It hasn’t changed much but we have

It’s ended

It’s done

I worried I feel closer to you there

Longing

But I’ve never felt further away

And it was liberating

 

I went back to the place we fell in love

But I realized

It was the place I loved all along

Hello There

I’M NOT A QUITER!

Dear Reader,

If you exist, I’m honoured that you’re here! Welcome to what will be an interesting, and maybe sad attempt at a blog. One think I can promise about it is inconsistency. Inconsistency with the posts and the content. I enjoy writing, but I am not an aspiring writer. If you like what I post, great! If no one ever even sees any of the posts that’s okay too.

I’m currently working on two pieces that I’ll post when they’re finished. I’m also drinking some instant coffee, that I instantly regretted that I made. Why? Well, last time I drank this particular brand of instant I was in an airport lounge in Thailand and it came with a cockroach……the powerful sensory memory makes me recall the feeling of the roach in my mouth, which I quickly spat out onto a spoon, while remaining calm and composed. The memory makes me want to puke. Why don’t I just dump the nasty instant coffee? BECAUSE I’M NOT A QUITER.

Anyway, reader, you fantastic mythical beast. I’ll make a contact page so you can email me if you ever have any questions or things you’d like me to write about.

~Misty