Day 1- Your Best Friend / Number 01- A picture of yourself

I don't quite know what defines a friend, let alone a best friend.

You know what? I don't have a best friend. I have some extremely close friends, but the majority of the people I consider at the top of the list I have never seen cry. And that seems like a requirement of this best friendship people consider so important.

Does the idea of a best friend differ between people? Is a best friend defined by parametres of being there, being someone to talk to, or just being the friend that is better than the rest?
I haven't yet found someone that understands me. No-one I feel completely comfortable with when talking to. I'm always out to impress, or to understand them rather than put myself in the position of being understood.
And there are people who'll comfort me if I fail an exam, there are people who'll smile sympathetically at me as I cry. And them I appreciate.
But a best friend is something I'm lacking.
Though it's not something I'm going to try intentionally to get. That's not a best friend.

Oh, before I forget. Number 01- A picture of yourself.

There we are. Lovely, pretentious, and highly edited. My eye. The window to my soul. How incredibly deep must this person be? To have someone see into her soul every time they look at this blog post.
I'm so self deprecating. But I think it's a good thing.
It's a picture of me, sure enough.




















But that's cheating.

There we go. See, I can have a dark side... if you want me to. (Tim Minchin is damn awesome)
Or at least it looks that way from a distance.

Thanks for reading.

Another dear.

It's perfectly fine to be down, it's perfectly fine.
I know that much.
I'm not down.
Just when you make a comment like that... that's where my obsession with obligations stems from.
Do you hate it? Really? Would you rather be somewhere else? Are you stuck here? 'Cause you know, you're free to leave whenever. If you've got these queues of people, I don't care.
Is it an obligation?
Because that's what it's starting to sound like.
You say you're sorry, but when you can't figure out what you even said wrong...
I don't know. I just don't fucking know.
I'm sitting at the keyboard crying my eyes out and shaking like a leaf.
You get worried at the slightest downturn of my voice, or when anything at all sounds forced. The first few times I let my voice show anything, I forced it happy, I forced it high, and I sounded convincing even to me.
I don't blame you.
I'm getting far too good at lying for my own comfort.

I'm overreacting.
But really, shouldn't that be top of the list of things not to say?

You know...

... you're upset.
Don't tell me not to look when your eyes are filling up, spilling over.
Don't react against her. You know it's childish and it proves nothing.
She cares a lot about you. You know that. You hate that you're pushing her away, but you think you need to. But you know you can do better, and supposedly 'not caring' is going to make it worse.
You're spiralling. Spiralling down.
But all it takes is effort. Put some in. You can do it.
You have it in you.
I think I knoow you the best, or the next best in this world.
I don't understand you. I don't pretend to.
But I know you.
And it kills me seeing you tear up your dreams. Changing to be someone different. All it takes is effort.
And I'm right by your side.

Please, let the cycle repeat.

Remember that time we just sat?
We sat, in a park.
We sat, in a park, and talked.
We sat near fake metal trees.
I didn't get your reference and felt awkward.
I smiled to cover it up.
But it was a real smile.
We sat, in a park, near fake metal trees, looking over a lake.
And just talked.
I miss that.
I miss that a lot.
I wish I had it back.

I could just speak with you.
Can we just speak again?
Probably not.

Your eyes won't travel anywhere near this.
Perhaps that's a good thing.