We sit in diners, drink our sodas, one with ice and the other without, and smoke our cigarettes. These are memories I hope never to forget. There are so many things we need to experience, she says. She says this a lot.
She says it in when her lips aren’t moving. She says it when she smiles and laughs.
To experience everything at least once, to moderation of course, becomes her purpose. She defines one of my many characters. When I look at her, I see a part of me. She possesses a certain gleam of craziness that I wish I had, a hint of confidence, and an amazing insight when it comes to the realities of life. She wears a face true to the colors of her soul, and when she needs to pretend, she does it with such finesse, it almost seems real. Many times, this girl I have come to call a “friend” is nothing but difficult. She knows how difficult she can be. Now it’s my turn to laugh. We both know the truth. Ah yes, mais oui, it is the truth about ourselves. It’s why I have come to love her, one thing in this world that I find hard to give up. Love. You choose your friends. I chose her not because she tells me how special I am but because she means what she says. My friend is no picnic. She’s weird and she’s a pain. One word comes to mind when I think of her. Bitch.
But don’t get the wrong impression, the wrong image. The word offers many concepts. I, for one, know that one aspect of a bitch is her unfalsified ardor to attack the most challenging of challenges. She is that. Without fear and reservations, she lets you know what has her mind riled up. She gets this conniving smile on her face, determined to bring you out of the hole you continue to hibernate in. What I love most about this girl is her talent to whisk you away into her world. In her world, who knows what can happen? No boundaries. No limits. No fears. I remember the times when the world only revolved around us. I like to think that what people think about me doesn’t matter, but it becomes so much easier when she’s there. When the bitterness surfaces, we conquer it together. And when reality decides to steal us away again, the boundaries, the limits, and the fears are faced together. Without a doubt, she can slap you back into reality. With her, you would want to retreat into reality’s arms, not in tears of surrender but in tears of happiness that someone will always be there for you.
Because she believes in me, and it’s a wonderful feeling when someone truly does. Keep that fire burning within you, that light. Whatever happens, never lose that light. Her words not only reflect me, but it reflects the whole of her. Though she directs it toward me, she speaks of herself. There is so much strength in her that I refuse to believe she could ever lose that light. She couldn’t possibly lose it. Where would that leave me if she does? Certainly not in the cold breath of darkness nor the bitter caresses of the wind. No, I wouldn’t let her. Not ever.
Look at yourself in the mirror. What do you see? Don’t lie. Look into those eyes. What does your heart tell you? I look at her. I continue to look at her through the lens of a camera. What do I see? I see many faces. I even hear many voices. I love photographing her because she has this distinct candor you can sense in her eyes. But she’s not. You look at her and you think you see someone soft and tender. She can be soft and tender, but with an attitude and a will you couldn’t break. She’s almost like one of the rap songs she likes so much. I listen to the music and I recognize harshness, but read between the lines. Know the words. It tells you the gist of it. Randomly, you ask her about something, the why, the how, the who, or any question in your mind. I could ask her, “How can you trust him like that?”
I can only imagine what she’d say. I love this one the best. Very carefully. Her sarcasm illuminates the entire room. I love it. Sometimes you just want to hit her and cut that javelin of a tongue, but other times, you just sit back and admire her. She would have you believe that she’s no one special. To you, she may not be. To me, she is. She asks me, What are you thinking about? I often ask her the same thing. I wrote a poem and dedicated it to her. To her and her loved one. I refuse to mention any names. Emotions are fickle, always changing with the tides, and though I have faith for him and her, I give her my blessings to those “loved” ones she hasn’t yet encountered or even if they exist. I like the one who loves her now and I can only wish her happiness. She accepts him with and without comprehension. Yes, I think my friend is in love.
Once in awhile, she unravels herself to me. She allows me to push down that shutter and take her picture. No hesitation. No resistance. The camera loves her, the difficult woman that she is. My bitch of a friend.
“There are so many things we need to experience,” the bitch says.
Experience a bitch for a friend. Then you’ll not only have the experience, but the knowledge. You’ll then know that what makes a friend reflects your character. You can choose your friends, but remember that there’s more to a face than meets the eye. There’s so much more to words and gestures. Give it a chance. Even for a moment, even if it doesn't last. Even if, in the end, the friendship dies. It only takes a few to touch someone. If not for you, then for them. Experience the whole of her. Or him. I did.
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