I have had the urge to write this post for a while, but something has always stopped me.
Maybe shame. Maybe fear of nobody caring. Maybe fear of appearing weak.
But if I am not free to express myself on my blog, where else can I do it?!
Then a few days ago a friend wrote
this amazingly moving piece. And it did move me, it moved me to tears.
I'm not sure jealousy is the right word for what it generated in me, it just made me face the emotional void I've been experiencing for years now, so much more so since I moved.
I am extremely envious of people that have that one special person in their life, that person you can call your Best Friend.
I have to be honest, thankfully I am no stranger to the concept.
For the 5 years of primary school I had a best friend, and although it wasn't the type of deep, meaningful friendship adult life brings to you, I was very grateful to share so many experiences with her. Unfortunately our parents chose 2 different middle schools for us, and I guess it showed me that she wasn't in this friendship as much as I was.
I tried to make an effort to still have her in my life, but I guess she just didn't want me in hers anymore.
At 14 during the summer between secondary and high school, I struck up a friendship that stunned me. I met an 18 year old guy through mutual friends and becoming best friends just rocked me to the core. I couldn't believe that I'd found that type of deep, strong friendship I only saw in movies or read about in books.
Although I was having a horrible time in school, with my family (as per usual) and generally in life, he was always there, he was the constant ray of sun light. Still to this day I wonder how did I get so lucky, I always felt like I didn't deserve our friendship, he was too great to be human.
When I was 16 the general order of the Universe was "restored" and he was taken away from me, from us, in the most horrible of ways.
It was Champions League night and we had organised a get together, as we always did. Him and his brother hopped into their car and after a stop for snacks, they started making their way to mine.
They never made it to my house. I started panicking when they wouldn't answer their phones. I had a panic attack when at the 50th phone call at midnight their mother picked up his phone, and told me they had been in a horrible car crash. A drunk driver had run a red light and plunged straight into their car, straight into the driver's side. My friend was driving.
His brother had fractured legs and a fractured shoulder. My friend was in a coma. He was air lifted to another city hospital which specialises in that type of injuries. He was there for 3 days in a coma, never once woke up, I was never allowed to go see him as I wasn't family. He never came back alive from there.
Despite his family begging me not to, I blamed myself, and still do, for his death. I didn't drive the car that crashed into hiss, but had they not be driving to mine, he'd still be here filling people's lives with joy.
I never got over the loss, and I probably never will.
Since then I haven't had that type of connection with anyone, and it deeply pains me.
I hit a particularly bad patch during the period I had cancer and the surgeries. My parents and brother treated me horribly and I wasn't allowed to tell anyone else in my family, I couldn't upset anyone. Still to this day only one other member of my family knows about it, because I told him years later.
I felt so alone, I was scared I was going to die, I was mad because I did NOT deserve it, life had treated me bad enough until then.
During the last year of high school I found myself slowly getting close to the girl from primary again. although I always suspected she wasn't really capable of a deep personal connection with anyone. However I thought that maybe it was just me and was absolutely over the moon when she told me she had applied for the same university as me. And not just that, she had applied for many of the same courses as me. That would have meant someone to commute with every single day, someone to share lunch breaks with, someone to just generally share the whole amazing experience with. I was particularly delighted as it was especially stressful for me in regards to my disability. But that's for, perhaps, a future post.
One day that I knew was going to be peculiarly full for us, I noticed that she wasn't on the coach; for a few days I texted her and tried calling her, but with no answer. I even tried to call her house but she'd ask her parents to tell me she wasn't home. A few weeks later I was talking to a mutual friend who knew what had happened and told me that her mother had run into our friend's and had found out what was going on: my friend had changed her mind about her choice of university and didn't even bother about telling me. I tried to get in touch asking for an explanation, but never heard back from her. I guess I was right all those years, maybe she did not really want me in her life.
Since then I have endured even more horrible experiences, on my own, without resorting to any type of addiction. I've just been sucking it up and got on with it. because that's just the way the world expect me to be, I'm expected to just be my own person and not ever have to lean on anyone.
I just needed to voice this void.
