"What can I do?"
"What do you want?"
There is no real answer to these questions. If you need to ask then I don't want it from you. If you don't know me well enough by now to know what I need or want then how can I call you my best friend? I used to hug you every time we saw each other, but I have stopped. You never noticed.
I used to bring you a cup of tea when we worked together, I never got one from you unless I asked.
I still listen to stories about your problems, your heartbreak, your feelings, your thoughts and I hug you every time you say that you are feeling sad or unwell. I go to you whenever you need me, because that is what best friends do, isn't it?
I once told you that to understand me you only need to know one thing, "I do onto others as I want others to do onto me". If I hug you, I want you to hug me. If I joke with you, I want you to joke with me. If I go out of my way to be there for you when you need me, I want you to be there for me as well.
You say I am important, but words mean nothing if the affection is one-sided. You say you love me, but can you love someone you don't know? You ask for my opinion on a destination for a trip, but reject all my ideas. You encourage me to change, but offer no support aside from punishment.
If I fear speaking my mind freely to you is it a true friendship? If I adjust myself and my life to suit your needs am I a good friend? If I am lay my life down for you, would you do the same?
My mind is a marvelous thing. It's full of words and ideas, visions and dreams that save me from harsh and unforgiving reality. It gives me other lives when I sleep, creates wondrous adventures before I fall asleep and many ideas to make a simple gift personal and special to you. You say you want to be like me and I laugh without humor.
It can also be a curse. When those words and ideas turn against me, when I fear falling asleep, when my thoughts, that can create words and acts to make others feel special and treasured, make me believe I am worthless and wretched. When every thought makes me feel as if I am a waste of space.
And yet I still try to be good to people. Be considerate and thoughtful, affectionate and generous. I do favors, I sacrifice rest and time to solve other people's problems or be there for them. I tell myself that this time it will be different, I will be appreciated and valued. I will be loved.
Once again that ends in abandonment. In disregard and forgetfulness once my usefulness runs out. I am replaceable.
I fill my mind with books and other people's lives to forget the emptiness inside and the cruelty of emotions. The non-existent balance between feeling nothing and feeling too much. But the locked away voice whispers words of pity and loathing.
I know deep inside that it speaks truth. Yet I smile to the world as a doll with a painted face and answer to you "I am fine".
