Fragility in the Strength of Female Friendship

The sun takes notice of me as the soft grass cries into my cold feet. I breathe with the earth, begging the beauty of the day to bend through me. Desperately attempting to consume the sun, to steal the warmth that is on my skin and absorb it, to keep it within me, stretching out pathetically, to reach the peace, to hold it, to feel it. 

The doors of my consciousness are interrupted by your knocking. Often, you run in from the subconscious, escaping the thick cold barrier I had made for you. I have to chase you down and throw you back into the abyss: The Thoughts that Almost Were. 

The grass falls into me slowly. I run my fingers through the grass and we comfort each other. 

Little black insects come, covering me, burying themselves into me. And they bite, “what if she dies, she might”, “If you’d been there more, maybe she’d be alright”. Bleeding my vision with memories. 

Your voice saying, “Let’s nick some drinks, dance and smoke”. 

We were best friends together but now you’re the town’s joke. 

I bumped into you earlier. It was uncomfortable. There was so much I wanted to say but when I opened my mouth, I felt none of it really mattered. Those words weren’t meant for the present you. The girl I was seeing. The disturbed, drugged, drunk girl. They were meant for the past you. The girl that I laughed with, cried with and danced with. The girl who meant so much to me, who I would plan my life with. The girl I would tell everything to. The girl who I adored. I judged myself a lot less when I was around you. A comfortableness within myself that I was not able to recreate when I was alone. But that’s not you anymore. You’re not the same kind, caring girl.

Your eyes were fidgeting, they never looked at me for too long. But when they did, they seemed to throw themselves into me. Your words were also fidgeting; they stopped and started. They wandered off and then started stronger until they got weaker again. You were telling me about your life. You weren’t happy to see me. It was something I had been avoiding too. They looked so bitter: your eyes.  

I guess I was selfish too. 

For a long time, you prioritised drugs over me. But I accepted all of your apologies because my love for you made me easy to manipulate because I wanted to believe that you were really sorry and that you really would not do it again and that you really really were a good person and that you had not changed and that you were still the same best friend. I had always felt so connected to you, an attachment that blinded me from seeing who you truly were. An attachment which survived so much damage that you did until it could not delude itself any longer.

I have lost a few significant female friends over the past few years. I tended to drag the friendship out as long as I emotionally could, prioritizing attachments over my own wellbeing. Female friendship is a very beautiful, strong yet fragile thing. Its strength is what makes it so fragile, it has the power to make you feel so vulnerable.

The last year is by far the most loved I have ever felt, and this is mainly due to my more recent female friends. Maybe it is because we have not been there for all of each other’s lives, that we haven’t seen the absolute worst of each other. My group of female friends have a simplicity in their love, a purity to their kindness and a natural approachableness. I continue to consume myself in female friendships. They fulfill me in ways that no other connection could. 

They warm me in ways that the sun never could. 

By Anon

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