Study…I study his words, my words.

I study his for the meaning behind them, try to see how he came to this conclusion or that. Try to understand his stance and try to sift the truth from the lies…

I understand it’s a defense mechanism, designed to keep me as far away as he can. I try to keep that in my head when I read the harsh words. I also try to keep in mind that his broken spots don’t entitle him to break similar spots in me.

His words, most days, say he cares. Lately this has been less so, and this has caused a rift…a break. We agree to be cordial, but the next day is again icy…silent. I understand that to him, perhaps this silence is as close to cordial as he’s able to muster some days.

Our whole friendship has been a bit of a dance, a coming together of souls to realize they may, in fact, be too close (There is no such thing for me, but I can feel when it shifts in him). There is either a quiet pull away, or a hard, hateful shove. He doesn’t recognize when we’re in that place that he came the greater part of the way, almost stumbling into it. I watch it happen and know what is to come. Some days…he doesn’t recognize he’s in that space until the second, maybe third day. Those days, when the recognition comes, its never a silent pulling away, Its a hard, forceful push. Sometimes almost violent and cruel…almost abusive.

I study why I accept this from him, I study my thoughts, my heart, my soul. I study why he matters at all. I can tell you that I fully understand the intricacies of the friendship, the details of my ‘why’…but I cannot show them to you because I can’t show you the wholeness of the friendship, those close to me only see a shred, a shard of what is there.

It’s easy to see what is there and say it’s hopeless. It’s not so easy from where I am. I will always wake and wonder how he is, and hope life is kind to him today…and wonder if we’ll talk today.