On brand new screaming meemies and (former) best friends

 I wake up again, shoot up in bed

Spine straight as an arrow, sore neck

Eyelids too scared to give into the heaviness

Of what once was a peaceful sleep

It's been over a week since I last spoke to my best friend

The person I thought that would always stand by me 

For me, with me, arms linked, 

Like the original Red Rovers,

It was you, and it was me, and it was us

And I was scared for so long that I'd lose him

First I was scared he would die, he would hurt himself

So we talked doctors and therapy and how we both tried to kill ourselves

I hear him casually saying he pressed a knife to his belly

"Just to know what it feels like", he says casually

I do not recoil. I listen without fear and without judgement.

Then I was afraid he would not get better, 

I was scared of the meds not working, I was scared of him giving up on himself

Still, I did not recoil. I stood there in between flight, without fear and without judgement. 

And then I was scared of my own sadness and my own madness

I was so scared of my pain, and I showed him these bloody palms

He did not ask whose blood it was, as if telepathy, he knew I bled

And continued to bleed, and I thought

I thought he stood there without fear and without judgement

I'd call sobbing and asking for forgiveness

I'd tell him exactly how I felt because he did the same

Or so I thought

I was there, I was always there, even broken

Without fear and without judgement

I was there, and I was aware, and I could feel

I could feel those arms letting go

I could feel his soul drifting away from mine

One day, one purchase, one depressive episode at a time

Until he finally told me I was too much

I was too heavy and his back was too tired of 

carrying the weight that comes with being my friend

He says I don't listen

He says I am making shit up

He angers me in my devotion and my love for him

He angers me and I say his head is just as fucked as mine

He does not engage, as if my anger was also another burden

And he never had any obligation in regards to carry them

In fact, he did not. No one ever did. 

But I remember so clearly, I know because I was there

I remember how he heard this message from me

And he said he felt sorry, he said he pitied me

"Poor thing", he would say

And today, as I stand slightly firmer and a bit stronger,

I feel like I'm sixteen again

And I'm losing him again to my darkness,

To my pain, to my sorrows, to my flaws, to my weight

I thought we were family and I thought we were indivisible

When in fact I was becoming more and more invisible

In my child-like language, I want to ask him to come back

And at the same time, I do not wish to grant the grace of a goodbye

I am sixteen again and the person with whom I shared my weirdest secrets

My heaviest sorrows and my brightest victories

Walked away from me for the second time in a lifetime

Because of  my depression. Because of a credit card. Because I've been drinking too much. Because my presence is too much to bear. Because at the end of the day I'm yet another problem in the pile of issues he has to deal with.

So I shoot up in bed with this vivid dream of receiving a message from him

"You have abused me and I no longer want you in my life"

I wake up, and my spine is straight as an arrow, and the arrow pierces my heart

I wake up, and my neck is sore as an open wound that lasted for over a decade

I wake up, and my eyelids are too heavy but still wide open in search of what's real

I wake up, and there is no one there. 

There is no message, there is no goodbye, there is no love, there is no grief.

There is just the same abandonment that would've been justified for a teenager

Not so much for grown people

So I find out a new type of screaming meemie

The type that was absolutely horrible, but still preferable

Over the absolute cruelty of the silence of those who are loved by us

But could never love us back the same way.