Friends and confidants
A poem for self-expression on recent events, that left me amazed at how much internal work I still need to do regarding opening up my heart again.
We are not friends,
I am your confidant.
You confide in me and I validate your viewpoints.
This is not me creating distance between us.
That already existed.
This is me accepting you for who you are,
As much as this is me accepting myself for who I am to you.
A mere mouthpiece, a diary, a chatbot if you please.
Something that is set in stone.
Being bounced off a wall when bored?
Is it not natural to fall deeper,
or find ourselves tumbling down certain roads?
Where lines begin to blur when time begins to pass?
When you begin to look yourself in the mirror,
And imagine things in the shadows you cast?
I don’t fit your definition of pretty.
I am not fragile,
Or dainty,
Or luring like those sirens.
I am very broken,
Very much guarded,
And you’ve never seen me in ways,
That I have refrained myself from becoming.
Or at least unveil it to you.
Like it takes water for a plant to grow,
Like it takes sunshine for flowers to bloom,
Currently, I am surrounded or cocooned by all the things,
That reminds me how fragile our existence is.
How much love and nurturing it takes,
To unfurl and become the best versions of ourselves.
You are not that person to me.
Even though I would have liked it to be.
Because we are not friends,
I am your confidant.
People often hear or say or do things,
To their own accord.
We have choices
To blame, to confide, to understand,
And every minute and every situation,
We chose to believe or take action,
That best suits our needs.
You did that, I did that too.
Somewhere along the way,
It hit me, I may be your confidant,
But I am human too.
Very much alive, breathing, thinking and feeling.
And feelings are fluid things,
Just like our mind, which we can change.
They are what makes us humans, animals or exotic birds.
But not objects.
But this is not new information to me,
I understood this when I was married,
I understood this when I got divorced.
People change.
Because situations change and feelings change.
It’s the only thing that we need to accept.
That change will come.
It’s what or for whom we are willing to endure.
Here I am a thing, you’ve taken for granted.
Because you thought this wouldn't change,
You thought I would stay the same.
Even flowers when spoken to kindly
Bloom bigger and brighter,
In opposition to plastic ones
Those aren't affected by any amount of time and words.
So I am sure I am not plastic.
Not in person, not in my actions
And certainly not in my feelings.
But does this make me fragile?
I believe it makes me complex.
And not all that is complex are things,
And not all complexities can be understood.
We all have our limits and capabilities.
I misunderstood your limit.
I mistook what you want to be.
A someone or a somebody.
Someone who confides,
As much as they are willing to understand.
As friends know when to
Realise the subtext and pretext.
They so willingly apply to any context.
Unlike anyone who meets us for the first time.
Because realisations are important
They make us aware of ourselves and others.
So it took me time to realise this.
It took me time to articulate it too.
That you were never my confidant.
And we are no longer friends.
