Some people say a friend is someone you can trust, someone you can rely on when you’re in need, but actually a real friend is much more than that. She’s the one to sit next to you when you’re bloody drunk and so fucking high that your soul stops working and time freezes into cubicles of nothingness. She’s the one to wink her smoky eyes and bite her crimson-clad lips in a fucked up but reassuring manner with that kind of look in her ireses that makes you cringe. She’s the one to watch you lean back against the wall and then she says the one single thing you don’t want to hear because you know it’s true;
‘You’re suffering.’
‘No, I’m not.’ you smile at her with a smile cold as ice, yet still charming in a disgustingly physical manner. And then you almost believe you didn’t just lie to your best friend. The drugs make you feel so empty that you’re not sure there was ever a single emotion in you. How could you suffer when you’re not capable of feeling anything at all? How could you suffer when you’re a cloud of ice-cold nothingness wrapped in flesh?
‘Yes, you are. I can see it consuming you, you know. You don’t talk about it, you always act like you’re fine, but I know you’re not. ‘
‘I’m fine, I’m telling you.’ you insist with a slightly nauseatic feeling in your stomach. Something’s not right. You feel like you’ve been wounded, you’ve been poisoned and fed lies, and yet, you can’t remember who’d done this to you or even when it’d happened. You can’t remember a single thing, it’s just that cringy, unsettling feeling in your stomach that doesn’t let your soul rest. It tries to make you recall all those memories you’ve buried so deep so long ago. No, you have to fight it.
‘If it’s about her… She’s so head-over-heels in love with you, you know. I can see the way she looks at you and she cares. She really cares. Don’t you love her? Don’t you? ‘Coz if you do, just get yourself together and open up for her. Or me. Either way, you’ve got to let it go. You’ve got to get the hurt out of your system, you’ve got to talk it out, you’ve got to stop being so secluded, a true introvert. If you keep suffering on your own, it’s going to poison you even more with every passing day.’
‘I’m not suffering.’
‘You’re in denial.’
‘Maybe.’ you shrug with a not-at-all convinced look on your face. And then you lean in and kiss her on the cheek; your deep red lipstick leaves kiss marks on her flawless porcelain skin. ‘I love you, you know.’ you, then, say with a lovely but half-hearted smile. ‘Now, let’s get something to drink, yeah? Oh, and quit looking so gloomy! We’re going to have fun and it’s all gonna be alright.’
You see her cringe for a moment but then she’s up on her feet, ready for the whatever-comes-next and she looks at you with a special mix of hope and expectancy in her eyes that almost makes you believe that her worries are all gone.
‘Whatever you say.’
JBV