Posts tagged lyrics

I treat creed like a drug, practicing sobriety and kneeling to religion like a failure in rehab. Every year I’m reminded of my addiction to faith, the way hunger creeps on me like habit or the cotton-mouth dryness of thirst. Somehow the meaning of Ramadan is lost on me. Thirty days of obvious conviction eluded by eleven months of oblivious principle. I’ve spent days of repentance on nights bursting with sin, yet the price of indignation doesn’t seem high enough. Religion weighs heavy on my soul but I’m tipsy on the words of a saint and acting on a sinner’s budget. How faithless this heart of mine can be amidst the yearning for salvation. God have mercy on my soul, Lord knows I haven’t.

I had surgery yesterday. I won’t bore you with details or specifics, frankly, that part is a little private. I know I can be candid, this blog is my venue for tangents and outlets, but in most cases I like to keep a hint of ambiguity even in my declarations.

But I’m here to vent about something more painful than surgery, though it was one of the scariest things I’ve ever had to go through on my own.

There are moments in your life when you realize who is truly there for you. Yesterday was one of those moments for me.

There I lay on a hospital bed, teary-eyed, in severe pain, thinking about how I wish I could’ve had my best friend by my bedside. And in that moment of physical agony I was beaten with a notion that up until then I’d refused to accept: I no longer have that best friend.

Over the course of the past year, my best friend and I had somewhat of a falling out. To me, it was more like her pushing me out of the picture. And I’ve managed to deal with that pain for months now. I made every attempt I could to reconcile the friendship, and every effort was thwarted.

At one point I thought we’d made progress. After months of neglect, she asked to meet. And we did. And we talked. And though I knew it could never really be the way it once was, I expected more than what it turned out to be.

We became something a little more than acquaintances but far less than friends. We would talk here and there, with weeks passing in between. And everyday I realized I was holding on to nothing but still, I was hopeful.

Yesterday was a slap in the face. In spite of our so-called “falling out” I had expected that her promise of always being there for me to be true. I guess only because knowing myself, had it been her on an operating bed, I would’ve made sure to have been there, even if I wasn’t asked. And that’s not something I assume I would’ve done, no, that’s something I know. And it’s something she knows.

Her absence yesterday forged a bigger hole in my heart. During the procedure and after, between tears, shrieks and the under-exaggerated “discomfort”, I had thought about how much less this would’ve hurt, emotionally, if I had her support by my side. And the more I thought about it, the harder I cried and the angrier I became. I was more upset with the fact that I felt I couldn’t count on her anymore.

I think it’s time I gave up hope. The person who used to call herself my best friend disappeared far before her physical presence in my life faded. And I had known that, and it had hurt. But I pushed forward, I fought for it, I did my best and I gave up too much of myself along the way.

I can’t keep myself and still keep you too.