My Blonde Continuation

That sounds like it should be a title in the Bourne series.








I was going to use the word conclusion, but then I realised when it comes to this girl, nothing she does, no motive, no event, is really ever going to be final or conclusive. Just as our friendship.







Boy was my dream right. The hole in her top from being shot at, represents the shots being fired at her in real life. Her sister didn’t tell me this when I asked about Blonde, because she too is involved in the family turmoil that is clouding them all.







Without getting into detail, shit has happened, life changes and choices abound, and she feels like a little lost puppy, with many places to go, but with no real home.







I’m feeling quite torn and confused after our almost 2 hour Skype chat. I feel deeply sorry for her, and I even shed some tears of my own about my life in amongst her tear-stained face. We were a couple of massive sooks on a sunny Tuesday afternoon.







And, although my question of why she hasn’t made contact with me in ages has sort of been answered, in another way it kind of hasn’t. Although she said she tends to bottle things up, she mentioned how she’s been speaking to another close friend of hers, and I couldn’t help thinking ‘who contacted who?’ It’s very likely that the ‘other’ friend contacted Blonde, but I’m kind of wondering, festering slowly over the annoying chance that Blonde went to her… and then I must ask – why didn’t she come to me?







I know it’s a lot of ‘what ifs?’ but there’s the other annoying thing, the part where she didn’t mention, or take note ofthe fact that I was quite worried about her these last few months. Either she is oblivious to it, or doesn’t care that I was looking for her. I know she’s had a lot on, I get it; however I had this really overwhelming emotion come over me when we were talking, and I thought to myself ‘I’ve been listening to everyone this year, from their happiness, to mostly their crap and problems and issues with life, and now it’s time for me. What about me?’







What about me. That has been circling my head for a couple of days now. I need someone to listen to me as well. I need someone to care. I need someone to ask if I’m doing alright. I’m a person with real needs and emotions too.







The day after our Skype chat I noticed she had sent me an email which I hadn’t seen at the time. She said she was going to bed. Having not seen this, I’d logged onto Skype and she had told me she’d get out of bed when I messaged her. I just thought she was resting there… that shit me too. Here we are, we haven’t spoken in yonks, I’m worried about her, and she can’t stay up for a bit to talk to her ‘close’ friend? I can’t say bestie anymore…







I know she cares… but I just have to wonder. I wonder if I’ve invested more into this friendship than she has, and I feel that is apparent from her failure to acknowledge my concern, in her absence of reaching out to me in her hard time, and in the fact that she was still crying over Red. That makes me sad too; but I’m here. There is someone who cares. I don’t know if she’s seeing that, or if I’m looking into things too much.







I can’t talk to her for a while now. As hard as it is, and as much as I wanted her to know I'm thinking of her, I need to distance at this point in time. As much as I learnt the other day, I feel like I know that much less about our friendship. And the not-knowing hurts.