صديق

You’ve forgotten how to be bothered. You do not want to be bothered anymore.

No one tells you that being bored for long enough changes who you are as a person; you no longer seek escape from the boredom, rather, you start to relish it —cancelled plans, skipped classes, late mornings, dragging feet—, you become defeated, avoiding motion, accepting the sense of solitude and abysmal peace it brings. Everything around you moves fast, but you can’t be bothered.

You’ve forgotten how to be bothered.

You do not want to be bothered anymore.

“The price of friendship is inconvenience”. If I had a gold bar for every time I have said that phrase to anyone, I’d have enough treasure to make pirates jealous. But I spent more time saying it and almost never hear it for myself, I tell it to others as a reminder not to give up on their friends, to extend grace where it’s needed, but currently being the friend who needs to be extended grace, I hear it for myself, and it does leave a bitter aftertaste in me.

Do I want the inconvenience of it?

Am I allowed some grace too?

Boon

Lately, I find myself inconvenienced around others, but I fortunately cannot escape it, I try consciously and subconsciously to crawl away into solitude, but I find none. I snap, I brood, I sulk, but everywhere I turn, there’s a friend waiting, a subtle constant reminder that I’m not alone, and I don’t get to be alone. I am grateful for the gift of friendship, and even more so grateful for the inconvenience they offer my stubborn self, for I give good advice but seldom follow it.

I am grateful for the pieces of the Jigsaw I have tucked away in my friend’s pockets.

I am grateful for the quiet friendship of everyone I’ve ever loved.