Friend

You were always there for me, always listening as I wailed. And I could always sense such kindness, such wisdom as you patiently gave advice. It used to amaze me, it still does: how could a mere slip of a boy, read so deeply into people? Know so much about their nature? In my better moods, you would incessantly tease me about my inconsistencies, and would make me laugh at myself. Laughter which in my troubled moments, helped me remember that it's not always as bad as it seems. That one day, I'll be laughing over this again. And you were of course, one of those people with whom I could always be myself, just as I am: with my half baked sense of humour, with all my shallowness, all my inconsistencies and my flaws. And it was not only me, you made everyone around you so comfortable, that the strings wound tightly over their hearts were loosened and they found the words to express their innermost thoughts and desires. Perhaps it was because you never judged us for what we were, and just let us be. You gave us something which we needed from ourselves.

And what surprised me even more, was the fact that you never seemed to need the reverse from any of us. You were troubled, quite often, and you weren't all sorted out (whoever is?) and yet you did not have a confidante. You said it was hard for you to express yourself, that though you had the words, you could not use them. And I guess that at some level, I understood.

This inherent imbalance in our relationship used to trouble me. Could this really be a true friendship? Shouldn't a friend seek and be sought? But then, what is friendship? And aren't there many different kinds and levels of the same? And so the doubt was dismissed.

But why didn't you tell me yesterday? Is it really that hard to talk about what's happened? Especially when the topic's been brought up? I know that it's partially my fault. I'm not a good listener, I can't draw out people like you can and I definitely can't do all those interpersonal acrobatics. But I know that I'll never turn away if you really do want to talk. Hearing about stuff from another person is not very nice, you see. Now, I'm trying to convince myself that that's just the way you are. That it doesn't really matter. But does it?