This Girl Has Got Stronger, And If I Knew Then What I Know Now I Would've Told Myself Don't Worry Any Longer...

And so the snow falls, piece by piece. Each flake blends into the stagnant, delicious, air. She sits alone on a stoop, head in hands. Her precious cheeks are flushed illuminating a brilliant hue of crimson. Each tear that falls seemingly freezes. 2 am on a November eve she cries. So, many nights she prayed he would lay silenced, not able to yell at her. And, now he does.
The stroke took all abilities of such a movement away. And, why the tears fall now is but a mystery; why a year after his death, at a graduation party she remembers her step-father nobody knows. She's bruised but, not broken. And yet still she sits in the A&F hoodie alone.
Or so she thought.

Three years. It was three years ago today when he entered my life. He, the fateful 'best-friend'. My world was abruptly thrown into chaos. I was forced to release control. And while everyone else thought I was just having a 'moment' he chose to share it with me. I won't lie, I never noticed him before that 'moment' but, now I wish we could share it again.

My hijab is drenched with salt infused tear drops. He sat next to me and spoke only two words "It's ok" and the world fell silent. But, how? How could it be "ok"? How could he know? There I sat, the concrete angel unable to control her tears, thoughts, or heart and all he could do was watch me. We sat without words between us for almost 2hrs then I slowed the pace of my breathing and my tragedy. As the last of my tears fell he suddenly spoke again, "Just, promise me you won't cry any more." My bashful eyes wince up as if to ask "Why not?". He too drops his head yet, raises his voice and says, "Because you're gorgeous when you cry..."

Gorgeous.

I consider myself a strong person. I thought I was an intelligent, driven, and highly capable human-being and yet, I cried. Since the age of 5 when my parents divorced I decided tears were a weakness. And, maybe that's why for so long I was determined that he was truly the 'best-friend'. He was the ultimate, never again would I trust anyone as much as him. And why? Because he saw me in my weakest. He saw me alone, with tears.

And, that meant everything.

Three years. It took me three years to realize there is a beauty in the breaking. I am an intelligent, driven, and highly capable human-being. I am. And, that is not for him to take away. Tears are not the definition of strength or weakness nor do they define me. Of everything I have to offer the world and, all that I am I allowed one person to be my best because, of my worst. He is the best I once thought.But, in a lifetime where are all things are temporary I should've known better.

Gorgeous.

That word is now the equivalence of regret. I don't regret what we had but, I regret the path I took in it. I heard we should blame it on me for friendships sake. Because, I saw him on Thursday and all I could think is how gorgeous he looked. How regretfully shameful his eyes were and with such a vengeance he glared at me. It hurt much more however, to know that beyond the hate he was in pain. He was me. He was me that fateful November night; bruised but, not broken. He was me, sitting alone at the park. I am gorgeous; for I now I know that he is me and yet I am not him.

He did for me that night what none other attempted. And yet, I, when seeing him in nearly exact circumstances did not do the same. I wasn't his anchor. I didn't tell him "it's ok." And, maybe that makes me a horrible person. Maybe I never deserved his friendship. Maybe it never was "ok". But, maybe I was never gorgeous to begin with. Alot has changed in those three years. I'm happy. I wouldn't be what I am today without him. But, at the same time anybody can sympathize with the sufferings of a friend, but it requires a very fine nature to sympathize with a friend's success. I've changed. I am an intelligent, driven, and highly capable human-being.

Three Years. I accept that we are no longer 'best-friends'. I do not accept that we are no longer friends. I see what others do not. I see him. The best mirror is an old friend; so in order to deal with him, I realize I must first deal with myself. MLK Jr. once spoke "In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends." And what more is a 'best-friend' than a single soul in two bodies? Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light. And so with that I will stay by him. Maybe, I'm not ready to say yet, "it's ok". Maybe, I'm not ready to cry. But maybe now that we are both bruised we can find a way to heal, together. And perhaps he will find his best and I will recover my friend.

"Be slow in choosing a friend, slower in changing."

-Benjamin Franklin