Bad Things

The good outweigh the bad, for the most part. Overall, I can’t complain a whole lot about the year. You learn from all of it and make the most of it and move on into the new year. I don’t make resolutions. I’m not even setting goals this year. I seem to obsess far too much when I set goals. I will do what I do, I will accomplish what I can accomplish. I will make the most of the year to come.

Made by defiant_angel

I think that this is o ne of the best topics. Especially since I’ve been on livejournal for going on six years now. April 29, 2001. 3500+ Entries. Amazing isn’t it? I started off with a few talker friends on my list, the ones who brought me to livejournal in the first place. I swore then that I wouldn’t get sucked in and at the time, I didn’t. I was in the midst of relationship problems, so I used it as a place to release frustrations and deal with problems. As time went by and I had moved across country, I lost touch with my friends. I had limited internet access, and everyone else was around when I couldn’t be. It sucked, but I used livejournal as a means to keep up with what was going on.

Things have changed since that time, I’ve reconnected with school friends, I’ve made new friends, reconnected with old friends that I’d thought I lost forever and unfortunately, lost friends as well. But I think the hardest thing has been realizing that livejournal is much like being in high school with it’s cliques, it’s outsiders and drama. It’s a popularity contest, even though many of us don’t realize it or participate. It’s a bunch of bullies, even though we don’t try.

But most of all, there are still the true friends, the friends that will be here when the smoke settles, that will be there to say, “Hey it’s okay, we love you.” The friends that will understand that you’re not perfect, that will love you despite it all. Livejournal is like life, and that is the hardest truth of them all.

The perfect topic for the week, I have to say. It’s easy to think about love on Valentine’s Day, as long as you’re in love with a special someone. Or that’s what most people seem to think. Love spreads wide, wider than having a significan other, it spreads over family, friends, even those who came come and gone from our lives in the past. Love knows no true bounds, the only limit to love is the one that you set on your love.

Love, to me, never dies. If it does, then it wasn’t really love at all. I have loved many in my life, and still love almost every one of them. Some will never know just how much I love them because I will never tell them. Especially the one who got away. I met him when I was in college, we had a lot of similar interests, we chatted daily when we could. We met face to face, one time, and I knew then that I loved him.

We never went beyond the stage of friends, he was the best friend I could ever ask for. He listened to me cry when my heart got broke. He listened to me when I had trouble with the man that I lived with. He was there when I was scared, to reassure me. He was always there. As much as I wanted to spend my life with him, I knew that I wasn’t going to ever get that wish. I let him guide things and he didn’t feel the same spark that I did. I was okay with that.

I was close to him for a long while after we had met, then we drifted apart. I don’t remember if it was a disagreement or if we just drifted apart, all I can remember is looking for him online many times. I google searched his name every few years to see if I could find him. I always did, but I never really had the nerve to contact him, at least not for a long while.

After a conversation one night with some new friends, I got nostalgic, I missed him. I missed the man whom I thought to be truest friend. I google searched him, found his website and his email address. In a bought of late night stupidity (at least that’s what I called it then) I sent him an email, unsure if it was really him. I held my breath every day when I checked my email, wondering if I could unsend the message, undo the stupidity that I had done. I feared that I would get a response that boiled down to a big “fuck you.” I was afraid that I would get a message saying that he didn’t remember me, or if he did, he wouldn’t want anything to do with me.

Much to my surprise, a few days later, I got a response. It wasn’t bad, it was nice, and I was so relieved. I hoped that it would lead to a rebuilding of the friendship that I so dearly missed. I never really knew how much I missed it until that moment. We emailed for a bit, then chatted on aim and friended each other on livejournal. We’ve grown close again, and hope to remain close to him, always.

To me, that friendship is one of the greatest of loves I can ever imagine. A love that has lasted for twelve long years. Twelve years, longer than any relationship I’ve ever had, outside of blood relation. Twelve years, though good and bad, through not speaking for a few years, through many changes in our lives. Twelve years, it’s a long time to love a man that you’re not dating or married to. But that is definitely how long I’ve loved my friend. I just hope that he knows that.