I have friends I’ve known for long stretches of my life. It’s a natural consequence of getting older, I guess. And lately, I’ve been realising how difficult it is to maintain the longevity. Did I say longevity? I meant friendship.
Or maybe I did mean longevity. Sometimes I feel like I’m fighting more for the principle or the idea of a friendship than anything else. We’ve always been friends, so why stop now?
People change. I’ve changed – fortunately or unfortunately depending on who’s asking. It only makes sense, then, that two people would wake up one day to find that they’ve become completely and utterly different from the people they once were. And their shared values and interests and humor – the very things that once bonded the two, that which made them inseparable – are gone; they’ve vanished.
We eat in silence, occasionally bringing up distant but fond memories of shared experience, both trying to salvage something that seems to have already departed. We look into each other’s eyes, hoping to see the person who is instead of who was. We smile.
And doubt begins to creep its way into the dim recesses of my mind until I think, if I had met this person today, would we be friends?
I don’t know.
Is that okay?
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