By A Comeaux
If I were a rapper I’d make a diss record.
If I were a scorned woman I’d take my angst out on windshields and custom paint jobs.
I’m but a writer with a few witty ways of expression and this just happens to the outlet.
Since January, I’ve been feeling what my heart deems as different. The way I looked at people I once believed in changed because I now see things clearer. This revelation hurts on a few levels particularly due to timing. I’m not ready to give them up. I’ve met some amazing people in my travels, through states both emotional and literal alike.
Poets and politicians, leaders and lesbians, reformed d-boys and devoted pew attendants at present.
In some way, in one of my personalities I hold true in my heart, we connected.
We shared a light or a moment or a struggle and I appreciated them in our time together.
These people touched something or another in my soul, if only for a season. Sadly, most lasted a mere week, a few at best. These characters read lines from my past, and mimicked an old lover or a mentor that I’m no longer connected with; they read from a book they didn’t write but were the right lines at the right time.
Somehow the inevitable occurred and they faded; not like my favorite denim jacket I purchased, I conceived that I still wear now with the perfect amount of love’s distress.
A lot like that summer, that jacket represents an era I proudly adorn my love’s wears and tears with.
But these people, these characters left before the plot developed. I was blessed with the lessons they left behind even though I yearned for more. I wasn’t ready to let go. I wasn’t ready to end our chapter or close the book without knowing clearly why these people have come into my life let alone why they were no longer available.
I respect the memory. The year, thus far, has taught me to let go and say farewell to fake friends.
Chuck the deuces to the new people that turned cold far too soon. Hey lover, I’m no longer looking for a reply to the emails, the test, the ‘call me I need you,’ requests. No friend, you lied. Told me you’d be there and you are, there, but not here.
You lied when you told me this was special and you were grateful, that you’d cherish this and cultivate a rare but beautiful friendship. Farewell.
I won’t unfollow you on Twitter or delete you from Facebook at present. I’ll go on about my days as if our moment didn’t happen. It burns when I think about it, but I smile teary eyed and tell you all farewell.
I ask you, my fellow reader and comrades, are there any fake friends you had to say farewell to…? There’s strength in numbers. And though they may not hear my goodbye, they surely will see it. Let’s talk about it.