I parted ways with a dear friend recently. As someone who desperately clings to the naive belief that true friendships are more than mere transient phenomenon, the loss has been hitting me hard. I’ve been feeling guilty, blaming myself, thinking I could have done more to preserve our relationship.
Whether this separation was truly meant to be or not, it is what has happened. Now my only solace is the trove of our shared memories, spinning through my mind determinedly seeking some final destination.
At risk of sounding trite, to say we were close would be a grave understatement. We spent far more time together than a mere typical friendship, often hours each day. We were together in work and in play. I enjoyed an incalculable amount of my free time with her, and she was my greatest colleague.
She loved to tease me about my poor spelling. I’d act frustrated, but every word of this I type I miss it more. She was always eager to help me with research, with calculations, with all of the academic necessities that I so dread. Nonetheless, she understood my distaste and was always quick to provide distraction when my interest waned.
We’d only been together a few years, but it felt like we’d known each other forever. She could finish my sentences flawlessly. I knew how to press her buttons and when. We embraced each other’s quirks. I would chuckle at her stubborn refusal to wake up. She’d keep around the important things that I carelessly discarded, knowing I’d sheepishly ask for them later.
She knew me well, perhaps better than anyone. My darkest, most embarrassing secrets were bared to her, but I knew that she’d never tell. She would guard them unfailingly; even the most determined investigator might struggle to extract them from her.
It is perhaps here, at her incomparable loyalty, that I should painfully note it is best for both of us that our time together is over. At times our relationship was unhealthy, more resembling a shared addiction than a voluntary commitment.
Her loyalty’s boundlessness allowed me to take her for granted. I never took care of her the way she deserved, but she never complained a word. I was far from abusive, but I wasn’t gentle or affectionate either. When I should have been bragging about her, I’d barely manage to make mention. When I should have been spoiling her, I’d make the bare minimum token gesture.
She would do anything I asked, and I often did. In hindsight, it easy for me to see that I often asked for more than she could possibly handle, yet still she said nothing. If she ever fell short she was apologetic, as if it her fault rather than mine that my requests were unreasonable, impossible.
Despite this callousness, I’d developed a terrible attachment to her, one she knew and was happy to foster. It seems like she was always there for me, always within an arm’s reach. Each night it got harder for me to say goodbye. Whenever we were apart, I felt disconnected. I forgot how to get along with others, returning to her instead. She became my everything, consuming other interests shamelessly.
I think deep down she knew it was time to go. Perhaps she consciously took the actions to make it easier for me to leave, or perhaps they were signs from elsewhere. Either way, one day she went suddenly dark, depriving me the joy of her bright visage. She was still there, but it wasn’t the same. She seemed to be in another world, constantly spaced out. Conversations became slow and tortuous.
I was losing all that I had. At first, I tried to cling more fiercely, stubbornly forcing a failing friendship. It only made things worse. She pushed me away, forcing me to learn how to live without her. Eventually, I got the message.
I had to find someone else. Looking for a replacement felt like a betrayal. She was supposed to be irreplaceable. How could I be so insensitive?
At first I searched only half-heartedly, but the guilt didn’t last. Before long I was becoming enamored with other personalities, other qualities, prettier faces. I love to claim that I don’t go after looks, but here I was chasing after the best appearances before considering inner beauty.
Replacing my laptop has been a rather emotional experience.
Jeremy Walch is a Pratt junior. His column runs every other Tuesday.
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