The 2 a.m. Friend

[Ed. Note: After hazily publishing this late into the evening, I woke up the next day shameful of my teenybopper-esque dalliances, and I deleted my post the next morning. After some more than compassionate encouragement from a friend, I've reconsidered and decided to repost in efforts to keep this blog more personable and meaningful. Thank you, to the few who read; and many thanks to those that care.]

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After a fun night of shopping, dinner and cocktails with a friend, I walked home in the silent solitude of the rain. I normally relish this quiet alone time, and find the rain unequivocally forgiving and cleansing. But today, I had a lot on my mind, and my thoughts were heavy with grief.

I thought of the past few years and all the things that have come with them. The life of an aunt, lost to cancer, whom I never expected to leave our family. She was hard-headed and a progressive thinker, and an unquestionably caring mother and adoptive mother; someone who I sometimes likened my own life and self to. I regret so much naively saying to her, "you will be fine. You're too stubborn to lose to this thing," only to lose her the following day. I'm so sorry and regret I'll never be able to share that with her. Losing my aunt, when she had so much life left to live, and the final words I shared with her make me hate my own naive, optimist thinking.

In my short 25 years on this earth, I regret that I've already made so many enemies. Regardless of why we've parted ways, and even regardless of my stubborn nonrecognition of my own wrong-doings, I regret that I've lost the people I've shared integral life moments with, and while I don't see or hope for a reconciliation in any near future, I honestly and wholeheartedly wish these people joy and happiness in their future endeavors.

Much of my recent grief is in the lack of self-discipline I have, constantly putting myself in perilous relationships detrimental to my emotional well-being. I've become exhausted in fighting to even be considered a contender for a partner's "top 5" list, and now believe that I can't expect to find joy from just one other person. Relationships have never been, and will most likely never be my forte.  

While I'm immensely grateful for dear friends and family who have helped me to barely grasp onto my own barely-there sanity, and to discover my own self-worth, I regret my inadequacy of being the 2 a.m. friend. The friend you can trust that when you call at 2 a.m., that will be both alert for the conversation and with an understanding ear. I realize my inadequacy in this role, as I came home late today with a heavy heart, and no one to share it with. In the coming years, and hopefully the decades to follow, I resolute to be the friend worthy of the 2 a.m. call, a simple commitment to becoming a better friend to those who have already given so much to me.

That is all.