On Giving Up Too Soon

I had this friend. I was 15 when we “met”, though when we met, we really didn’t meet. It was random. It was via the phone, one of those that was still attached to the wall, and I swear, if I tried to explain it now, you wouldn’t even believe it. It was random in that meant to be kinda way. I was young and angst-y. He was a little older, and angst-y, but he was a musician so for him, it was cool. We were friends for a very long time. I went away to college. He never did. While I was away at college it seemed we had nothing in common anymore, but honestly, it never seemed we had much in common. It was one of those friendships that never seemed to make much sense, it just… was. My mom never liked him much. His name was Jack.

There would be times we wouldn’t speak for months. Then, something would make me call him. Usually, it was that something in my life went wrong and I just wanted to talk to someone who had loved me since I was 15. I would call him and we would talk, even from what seemed like opposite ends of the universe, until the sun came up, like time had never passed.

And then…..

Way too many years ago now, it ended. He told me that he couldn’t have me in his life anymore because I was a “negative influence”. I was “always unhappy” and it was always about me. I was angry. I had fair reason to be because I had always been there for him on his darkest days too, but what I didn’t get is that his darkest days were fewer and far more between than mine.

I have a point. There’s a reason that, at least 10 years later, on a random night, it crosses my mind.

Every time that my life has gotten better, as I have gotten better, I have thought of Jack. I have thought of Jack and how he gave up on me too soon, and Jack….he’s not the only one.

I have always been a beautiful soul that was a terribly rough work in progress.

Today, I am aware that when I stopped looking for anything, everything found me, just as it is supposed to. I am grateful, humble, and most days, completely without words. I know I wasn’t always this person. I have, from the time I was old enough to have to sleeves, been the person to wear her heart on them, and I when I hurt, it was there. When I struggled, it was there. When I was angry, I destroyed everything in my path. I just wish that some of those who loved me then had stayed long enough to get to know me now, and I think of that when I meet others who may not yet be where they are going to be.


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