friendship
Emily could see that I was having a rough day, and she offered to listen, but it was just a little too close to to the truth, and I couldn't tell her. I wanted to tell her. I really wanted to tell her. I wasn't going to mention anything about the causes of it all, but I desperately wanted her to know how alone I felt. Feel. She's felt able to rely on me for emotional support when days get rough, and probably wanted to reciprocate. But I couldn't. Part of it is how much she reminds me of Hannah, part of it is how much the whole situation reminds me too much of Hannah. I fell in Love with her through an alternating series of one of us opening up to the other, and the same thing is wrenching us apart. I can't open up to people with that deapth anymore. I'm scared of the pain. I'm terrified. Nightmares cause me to sweat, but this kind of terror causes me to shiver. I'm paralyzed by it. It's strangling me right along with the guilt of all the things I've done, and most immediately the guilt of the things I have to do.
What is the right thing? Is Roslin right? Is the right thing a luxary? What's it all worth? Will I still have a soul when it's over? Can I get through it without hurting the people I love any more? Can I continue to live if I can't?
Can Hannah and I ever rebuild our friendship if I continue to insist that I can't turn to her in times of trial? Would it matter? What if it was the only way? Could I do it?
Her friendship is worth everythng to me. I would do anything to preserve it. But what if it's no longer in my power to allow her to BE a friend? Can I fix it? What if I'm just not strong enough to hold on? Will I ever be able to love again? Will I live to find out? These questions bind me like a noose, strangling me, breaking me under the weight of their absent answers, and beneath the fear of their revelation.
I'm tired. I'm desperately tired. I'm tired of hanging onto the cords that tie me to half-forgotten memories and the friendship at their core, when those memories are so far out of my view that I'm not even sure if they're at the other end anymore. I love Hannah, but if she untied one end of the line and walked away from it, I don't think she'd ever tell me. Hell, she might not be able to recognize it. I guess it's likely that she's on the other end, afraid to let go just like me. Is it too much to hope for that she is as sure as I am that it's worth it to hang on, no matter how much it hurts?
Or the worst question: What if I'm the one that's let go? God forgive me if that's true.
I can't do this anymore. This brought a lot more to the surface than I was expecting. My speed-dial now accesses a blank address book entry that her number used to occupy. Yes, I remember the number, but it's one I won't call for help anymore. I can't. I could once, and now she hates me for it. No, I can't do this anymore, but I can't turn to her either. I think I might just go bury my face in a quilt and see if I can't drop a tear or too, then either try this again or go over to Taylor's when I feel I can handle my emotions without informing him.
I just...there's not enough comfort here right now. This is all a lot harder than I wanted it to be. To be continued.
