startling truth.
Today, I told someone that you're my best friend.
The words rolled off my tongue and down my chin
before I could bite down and swallow them.
They left a bitter taste in my mouth as I just sat there,
ears ringing as we carried on the rest of our short interaction.
The idea of eating what was left of my lunch was entirely
out of the question.
I walked to class and chewed over the stupid sentence.
So inconsequential.
And yet.
It felt like a lie.
The words were true, such a short time ago.
In my heart, I still feel them.
But something about "best friend" felt wrong
as it spilled out of my lips and skittered into the ears
of a near-stranger.
It felt like a lie and that hurts.
More than that—it fucking sucks.
I've made peace with so many facets
of the stained-glass window that makes you up.
All the teeny, tiny pieces of yours
that don't line up with mine.
But not this.
Not this realization
that those words are simply incorrect.
False.
Untrue.
A lie.
A lie to myself
that I've bathed myself in and wrapped around me
used to keep me warm while I sang all of the songs that you taught me to love.
The words "best friend"
have never felt so out of place or misused.
And it's not because you don't deserve them.
It's because I don't.
I've been trying to put the square in the circular hole.
Getting frustrated with a painting for being "hard to read."
And then wondering why
at the end of the day
it all still hurts so much.
There is not a simple answer.
There never is.
So all I'm left to do
is wonder.
