when i met her, we both liked to draw.
after school we'd get together and draw, side by side.
i like yours!
no, yours is better.
the conversation went something like that.

at nine years old, we knew we'd be friends forever.

years went by
[late nights on the phone,
scribbling notes in class,
whispering when talking wasn't allowed]
the conversations evolved
[don't let him break your heart,
you're too good for him, or
you deserve this,
i believe in you]

at thirteen years old, we knew we'd be friends forever.

more time passed
and our paths
still parallel
still pointed in the same direction
still with a shared destination;
together we had gone from
girl to teen to woman
from childhood to maturity
learning life
side by side

at eighteen years old, we knew we'd be friends forever.

when we had to part
there were tears
but she told me
"this is not goodbye!
i promise you i'll be there
for every great moment.
i promise.
i'm your best friend. i'm not going anywhere,
this is not goodbye"

[but it was]

somewhere
(when the frequency of our visits decreased
and the phone calls began to cease)
something started to slip
away

there was
the stress, the tragedy
the fear, the abuse
the drugs, the depression
her cry for help
but
where was i?
and where was she, anyway?

fate painted a river
between us; she needed me
but couldn't ask,
i wanted to help but
didn't know how

she knew my mind better than i did.
she shaped who i became.
she was my life support.
the girl who made me me,
well, who is she
now?

beneath her dark voice
beneath the sadness, the uncertainty
beneath all the wrongs that have
been done to her
is the girl that
used to draw pictures with me
at nine years old

but because i can't save her
do i have to let her go?

08/03/2008

Author's Note: i know this is total stream-of-consciousness, but the feelings are too overwhelming to express with eloquence.

Posted on 08/03/2008
Copyright © 2024 Emily Davidson