How we seem to have an innate aversion to what's good for us. To rules, to advice, to anything that someone says you should do for the better. We refuse to take refuge on dry land; we subconsciously find ways to plunge into the deep. We want to drown. We want to feel that adrenaline rush, that hopelessness, the stab of fear.
I have a friend who lives my life. She is me, and I am her, in the sense that we somehow have such stunningly similar experiences, and saying that we can relate to one another is an understatement. We lead parallel lives.
I tend to run into walls a lot. I don't think I do it deliberately, but sometimes I'm pretty sure my heart is attracted to pain. This friend of mine, we grew up together. She has always been the stronger one, but the pains of being eighteen sometimes prove too overpowering to bear.
Today, she found herself being shoved against a wall - one of those walls that make you love to hurt.
She pushed herself away.
I love her for that. I love her for how much I can rely on her for everything. To hold my pain, to understand every nuance of emotion I try to describe. And you might not read this, but please know that I love you. We tell each other about the people who enter and leave our lives. I'll always have you by me, and you'll always have me. Never leave me.
Years from now we'll still have our endless chats and hysterical laughs (remember the time we both happened to laugh and slap our thighs in exactly the same way?) and crazy inside jokes when we bring up certain guys' names from eons ago. Decades on, we'll be talking about families and kids, looking back at our own school lives.
Don't know what I'd do without you.