One thousand two hundred and eighty-eight miles separated us physically. Emotionally, it’s like we were in the same room. What is it that makes a friendship so special? Chemistry they call it? Fate? Karma? We understood each other so well. We laughed, we teased, we cried. We made plans we knew would never come to pass. We shared our lives; bared our very souls.
Every night I would log on knowing your message would be there waiting for me. Sometimes serious, sometimes silly, but always the words I needed to hear. Until that night. You sounded so despondent. The pressures of everyday life rained down…work, family, day to day responsibilities…so you said. But between the lines I felt the guilt, the worry, the frustration, the anger at not being able to be who you really are. I responded lightheartedly, hoping to get a laugh, maybe cheer you up just a little. I guess I may never know if you read it; the very next day your account was deleted. Just like that. You were gone. I just sat there and stared at the screen in disbelief. This can’t be. She can’t leave me like this. What did I say? What did I do? There must be a mistake. Technical glitch. Something. Account deleted? What the hell does that mean? You told me you had purged before and I assumed you decided it was time again. You purged your clothes. You purged your truth, half your being. You tried to purge a part of you that will never just go away. You purged your friends. You purged me.
I try so hard to understand how the forces that guide us here and bring us together can just as quickly drive us away. Its almost as if we have no control. I have to tell myself this was not your doing.
We did not choose to be who we are. Who in their right mind would choose such a life? As Candy slowly reveals herself to the world, maybe I can at least find token acceptance…you know the kind…(“Oh sure I have a crossdressing friend. I keep her right there on the shelf between my gay friend and my black friend, ’cause I’m so liberal”). Else we endure the hatred of those terrified of their own feelings. Maybe I will find another friend like you to make it all worthwhile. Maybe not.
Your messages still linger in my inbox from you, my dear deleted. They will soon disappear and the memories will slowly fade and life will go on. There will be other friends but never anyone quite like you. The cycle repeats over and over. For this is the life we lead. One of guilt and shame, fear and loneliness. I can’t help but harbor ill will at the cruel world that so ruthlessly tore us apart.
As I push back the tears I write you this one last message. I am eternally grateful for what we had. I can only wish you all the best in life. May all the dreams we shared and plans we made become your reality. As for me, well I’ll push on, for you have shown me a very pleasant stop on this otherwise lonely, grueling journey I call life.
All my love,