And then the words of a so called friend haunt me in the bleak unforgiving daylight.
“From what I get, he’s done”
“Just all of the jealousy stuff”
Perhaps speculation, perhaps a sharp dose of the soul telling the mind “I told you so” when it wondered and then wandered, foraying into the dangerous pit of, “Has he said anything about me?” kinds of questions…
And it burns so brightly. And it hurts so deeply when you realize that you groveled at the feet of someone who thinks little enough of you to sum up your weaknesses to a laughing crowd.
It cuts so succinctly when you remember that all you ever did was defend him to similar crowds in the hall of your own mind and in the halls of your own careful friends. That all you ever did was try to be determined to believe that there was good in him.. Even when it was apparent that the belief in you had dwindled, or worse, was never there at all.
Skinned alive by the one who gives shelter to a heart you could have listened to for hours. Skinned alive by the one whose beating heart now only beats disdain in the rhythm of, “you-mattered-about as-much-as-this-candy wrapper”… In the rhythm of realizing that not only were you misunderstood, but that you mattered little enough to him to not even want to get to the bottom of anything about you…
To the rhythm of real mixed up distress now at how all you ever wanted in this last septaguint era of your life, all of the tender caring and frail strivings exist now only in the cramped insight of a mutual so called friend.

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