The stand alone friend
I was talking with a friend about something that made me think of you. You and her have one thing in common, as you both are my "stand alone friends". You and I, we met by chance, by some boldness of character I used to have, that for some reason I no longer possess. We met a few of each other's friends, but we don't have any friend in common - it's just us, just you and me, just me and you. There's no one else when it comes to us. That's the meaning of a stand alone friend. That's one of the things that keeps you apart from the rest, that makes you the most safe of my friends. That and the friendship we've crafted over the last seven years out of pure and thin air - there's nothing holding it, there's nothing keeping it from vanishing into oblivion, and yet it remains. It's still there, for you and me, like something we keep in the cupboard and know it'll always be there, even if we don't look at it that often. We see each other what, once, twice per year? There's no excuse for that - we don't live far away from each other, our lives are not complicated enough to keep us from seeing each other. We just don't meet often, and as odd as it sounds, it's actually all right. When we finally see each other, everything remains just as extraordinary as it was four, five, six years ago. To the eyes of each other, we haven't changed much. Nor do I think we will. To the eyes of each other, there is no disillusionment, no disappointment, no sorrow. Only the friendship that still binds us. In times like this, bleak and cold, such a friend, with everything it implies, is an invaluable treasure. In times like this, when for some reason I forgot how to believe in love, I think of you and I remember: there's still her. Not to feel something like love (that kind of love, you know), but to remember there's one person in my life to whom distance couldn't keep apart, and to whom I feel something that is not only friendship, but something else entirely.