Forgotten friends...

Well, well, well...so a friend of mine, oh let's call her Emily, said that my last couple of writings were not the same as my originals. She mentioned that she is a fan of them, but that she prefers when my words are more exposed, more raw, and open for interpretation. Here is one about friendships that come and go, some that stay the ages, and others that fall to the wayside even after you thought they would forever be there...and then there are others that always continue to amaze and comfort the soul. Here you go, and may you enjoy...

So many souls have come and gone in this man's life, and as they pass through, I always sit back and wonder...do they know how they take a piece of me everytime they say goodbye? That my heart grows stronger with their presence, and misses their words when they are not around? To you who have broken and slipped through my walls, have gotten to see the person I really am versus my facade, to those who want to make the road trip through life with me, I say thank you for making my life that much sweeter...

But to those who chose to disregard me, and think that I would forget them, I have this to say: you seem to have forgotten who I am. To those who misunderstood me, mistook me for a punk, or even thought they were better than this cat, y'all need to stand back and look in the mirror. I did one day, stood there and gazed upon my countenance, eyes all blacked out, nose shattered, a body cast on my frame, and an ugly gashed up scab in between my eyes. I can still feel my hands gripping the porcelain sink, holding my body straight, without shame, and only a little shock...and coming to a realization that although they tried, they cannot kill my soul. Pain? What is that but weakness leaving your body...sadness? Only a reason to cry and still be a man; to know that although the body may break, it is the soul that allows for survival. Through the years since, I have come to see that we need not always walk alone; that at times it is okay to lean against a strong shoulder and rest my tired bones.

So, an old friend has come back into my life after a fourteen year absence. He stopped me on the street in recognition, where others who only saw me a year ago couldn't recognize me. I have been called a chameleon, and a person always in the process of reinvention. Yet, here was my man taking the time to perceive what it is not always apparent, and stop an old friend once forgotten. He is one who has seen much death, much stupidity of human actions, and has dealt with loss of his own. So, it now only makes sense that we would become tighter than tight, hang like time never passed, and I hold bond that he has my back...because he feels mine strong against his, ready to back up whatever calamities may come our way.

Nights of silly debauchery, smoky roads of future paths, and an understanding that what came before only lays the foundation for what comes next. Head up, shoulders straight...now march. It is only with our heads held high that we see what is ahead of us, no matter how foggy the view, no matter how rocky the road, no matter how many times we feel alone...maybe that is when we are being carried in the arms of a friend.

"We call that person who has lost his father, an orphan; and a widower that man who has lost his wife. But that man who has known the immense unhappiness of losing a friend, what do we call him? Here every language is silent and holds its peace in impotence."
- Joseph Roux