My friend never spoke to me; he never uttered a word, nor did he ever laugh. I never understood why, and I never tried to find out what was wrong with him.
The expression on his face suggested that he was experiencing a profound sense of loneliness, but he never said a word.
As the daylight disappeared and darkness took its place, he always cried, right in front of me. But despite being there with him, he felt incredibly distant. It was as if though I stood beside him, he cried all alone.
I never knew the pain he felt. Was the world too cruel, or was the timing just not right for him? His appearance was peculiar, but after years of companionship, it became somewhat normal to me. Clad in black, he moved swiftly, making his face hard to discern. Yet, one thing unsettled my senses — it was a strange, dark aura that surrounded him.
Despite this, there was something special about him. No matter how destroyed my friend was by the circumstances or how defeated he felt, he never left me. He was always there, even if it rained, and the umbrella seemed to have barely enough space to hold both of us.
On a quiet morning, with the first light of dawn filtering through my window, I sat in my chair. I wasn’t alone; my friend stood next to me, and together we gazed out of the window. It was then that I enquired about the heavy burdens he carried. I asked him, “What is bothering you so much?”
“It’s you,” he said, his voice heavy with the weight of years of silence. ”Every time you doubt yourself, every time you lose your faith, every time you are disappointed, every time you wish you were someone else…”
It was after a long time my friend had spoken as if he had been waiting for me to talk to him all those years. But now that he did, every word was heavy and sharp, just as a whip.
He continued, “That one time when I failed a task, you labelled me a failure. You constantly criticised my nose, hair, appearance, and body. You tried every way to abandon me; you left me to suffer when I needed you most. You were a good friend to others, but what about yourself?”
The weather was cold, and the sun was slowly rising in the sky; the ambience was calm and silent.
What my friend had just said was right. I had been blinded. I had not trusted the one who knew me like no other. I had not trusted myself. “Thank you for always being there. Thank you for all that you have done for me, my dear friend,” I said. At that moment, I saw a smile on his face, a smile that was truly the most precious smile I had ever seen.
The morning bird sang as I embraced myself in my arms.
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