She was very presumptuous and I didn't really agree with that, but we were best friends, or more, so I forgave her. She said that I only saw things in black and white, but she only ever saw grey, and grey was the colour of my infidelity. Because grey was an unremarkable colour, was it even a colour at all? And by my grey infidelity I mean something that never happened.
There were nights with her that felt like highschool sleepovers. We'd stay up late talking, giggling, using a deck of cards to tell our fortune. Is Bec in love with x? Has Bec ever been in love with x? The cards never lied and those nights we laid our past and our future out in front of us and put a belief in it that was unwavering.
But she was more than my best friend, she was someone who knew me. Someone who would pull me up on my shortcomings, of which there were many. And she knew me in sensual ways that I can't really talk about here. She asked why I never wrote, why it was always about some other girl, and not her, and I guess I thought I didn't need to write about her, because she knew, she knew me. And maybe that's the thing, she stopped knowing me when I stopped letting her, and we became best friends that were strangers, strangers that shared the same bed, but strangers that had stopped sharing the same thoughts.
So I'm giving you back my thoughts because they've been gone for too long, and you might think that we are only best friends, but if you know me, and if you know my thoughts, then you will know the way I think about you, and it's not something I could ever say here.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
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