swordspoint: (Being angelic)
Sapphire ([personal profile] swordspoint) wrote on November 26th, 2015 at 03:58 pm
The words are hammering in my chest. They need to get out. But I don't know what they are.

They say the most valuable of friends are those with whom you could pick up the strands of your last goodbye and carry anew. I've always hated the repetitiveness of that sentiment, and almost came to resent it time and time. Attention starved as I was, why could friends not be a stable, permanent presence instead of spaces punctuated by silence until the next opportunity arose?

But the silence was created by myself as much as our circumstances. When the time came to pick up the strands of our last goodbye, we tripped on them and on ropes of misunderstandings. I've had my biggest and first fight with one of my closest friends for the first time in a decade, and it left me reeling for days. It left me wounded and resentful and childishly hollow.

And then things were mended, and we carried on because we were old friends who understood one another best. We sniffed and sighed and I looked back on the incident as a small hiccup in a bigger friendship.

I'm the first to admit my selfishness in wanting my loved to stay still in time around me, for me, as I raced outside and out there. I wished so fervently for it even as my world changed too fast around me, leaving me the one standing still. Leaving me the one stagnant. In times like these, I've only wanted to curl up and hide and wait for the world to forget about me completely. If I couldn't race along it, I wanted no part of it.

I need a new path to race along and I need stronger legs to do it. I need my wings unfurled once more.
( Read comments )
Post a comment in response:
Identity URL: 
Account name:
If you don't have an account you can create one now.
HTML doesn't work in the subject.


Notice: This account is set to log the IP addresses of everyone who comments.
Links will be displayed as unclickable URLs to help prevent spam.