Sunday, April 27, 2008

So I did sleep for a few hours.

But then something odd happened...

When people leave comments on my blog, the message is texted to my phone. I don't shut that tone on my phone off because it never wakes me; it's extremely quiet and uneventful. Only the last person to leave a message woke me up. In my dream, the noise was extremely loud...and when I woke up it took me a minute, but as I was going back to sleep, I remembered what woke me, and saw my phone was blinking...and there were new comments from Mollie (who didn't wake me up, so don't feel bad) and and an old friend of mine who I haven't heard from in over 3 years.

Her name is Darla. We met at a showing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show in October of 1994 in Ann Arbor, Michigan. We didn't hang out after the movie or anything; it was just a random meeting. At least until we randomly met again a few months later at City Club in Detroit. That's when the fun really began.

Darla was gorgeous. Darla was fierce and cruel and funny and witty. We traded barbs for a few minutes and knew we were going to be friends. And we were great friends for nearly a decade, but then we had a falling out. I didn't visit her in the hospital, and then I missed a birthday party. She lashed out at me. I lashed out at her. And we stopped speaking. And just like that it was over.

There have been many times when I've missed Darla. And there have been many times that I've been grateful that our friendship ended. One of the things that always convinced me that we were really good friends, was that our friendship was never easy. It always took an effort to maintain. We were such frail (if beautiful *WINK*) creatures... And sometimes it was painful.

I don't know what our new messages will mean. I don't know that they mean anything at all...but I think they must. I just don't know what. I've always been grateful for having known her. She was a very important part of my life for nearly 10 years and that's not something that can be pushed under a rug, no mattter how it all came crashing down...

And I am very grateful that I got to know her, and experience her. I have many fantastic memories that only she could have provided. I'm glad she's still out there, living her life. I hope that she's healthy and happy and that she's grown and changed. And I was happy to hear from her.

But she scares me a little bit too. Someone who could mean so much to you one day and then renounce your friendship the next over anything less than violent crime...that could just toss it all away...is someone to be feared, or maybe pitied...most likely both.

I've made a concious effort to become friends with people who are hopefully not as Darla used to be, and perhaps still is. I like knowing that I don't have to tense up every time I stick my foot in my mouth, as I'm rather clumsy and tension is not a friend...tension and stress can kill you far more painfully and slowly than a razor blade.

When our friendship was declared dead, I tried sending her a toy of a Tim Burton character named Voodoo Girl. I'd given her a poetry book featuring that character years before, as the words all applied to her so lyrically. I didn't know if she ever got it or not. I still don't. I wasn't sure I had her new address; I'd never been there. And I sent it anonomously; afraid of being rejected outright, I suppose. And then when I didn't hear from her...I was sad because I didn't expect things to end that way...but I was relieved too. And that's not something I expected...or wanted to feel, I just did.

My friendship with Darla was never easy. And some of that was very rewarding. For a long time, I was the one that Darla would let in, when she pushed everyone else away, and it felt good to be that person. But it also meant that I kept part of myself locked away for fear of pissing her off to any degree that would damage our cherished tenuous link. And when that happened regardless of how I'd struggled, I was set free. And part of me was pissed off that I'd held back at all, while part of me was proud that I had. Another part of me was disgusted that I'd invested so much time into someone who could then say I wasn't her friend. And still another part of me was saddened that everything we'd built was coming to an end. But then it was really over and I found that most of me was joyous...because she wasn't my responsability any more. I truly cared for her...I did, but trying to take care of Darla seemed to cost so much more than any other friend even dared to ask or require. It was often wondrous, but so taxing that after the fact, it amazed me that I'd held on so long. I've known others and met still more that have experienced the same thing.

But I never stopped caring about her. It just took on a new, less risky form. I'd think about her. A kind of prayer I guess, though I don't believe in such things. I'd worry about her... Wonder about her... Dream about her. Not knowing what was happening to her kind of sucked, but it was safe.

I found her on myspace a while back, and considered friending her, but when I read her latest blog entry, and it was about how so and so wasn't her friend anymore. Maybe the guy did something really horrible. I don't think I read any further. It brought up too much...stuff.

I'm writing all this out, because I haven't thought about it so clearly before. Her message meant a lot to me. I think about her. I talk to new and old friends about her. I like to think that she's happy and taking care of herself and the ones that she loves. I wonder how she's changed... I wonder how it would be if we randomly crossed paths. I wonder if insults would be traded...or if we'd just say hello and then move on, with those around us wondering what all the fuss was about. I imagine us hugging. And being a little sad. And continuing on our separate ways. But maybe I'm wrong. It wouldn't be the first time.

More sleep is required.

   posted by Bald Jason at 11:11 AM
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