A Bitter Year

This was one of my more bitter years.

The losses of this year felt unbearable during the isolation following my car accident. The biggest remains that of my best friendship of 10 years. I guess 10 is a nice round number to end on. Longer than many marriages.

I realized recently I'm going to miss her not on the bad days, though they're all the more lonely, but on the good. She's going to miss all the wonderful news that's waiting for me in the future.

When I get my literary agent - I won't be able to call her and hear her "woo!"

When I get my first book cover - she won't be able to exclaim over it.

When my first book tour stops by her city - she won't be giggling with me afterward about the cute guys that showed up. (Cuz that's who comes to book signings right? Confirm this, published authors!)

I still mark my life by her absence. This is the first Harry Potter film we didn't talk about. This will be the first Christmas we don't discuss gifts for. This was the last year I heard her say, "I love you."

I hopped by Gayfor! tonight, the blog I created dedicated to our LesBromance and all the things we were gay for (most of all, each other).

When I read the post of what kind of notes she used to write me, I can hardly believe she would exit my life so completely and, though I know it only feels that way, suddenly. How could she have thought my heart big, but not want to be in it any longer?

It feels like a dream now that I ever had a friendship so close. I know I'll never find another like it.

And I can't see us ever having it again. Because waiting just behind my shock is a cold rage. You cannot burst from my heart without caving in the entry.

Perhaps when my years aren't so bitter, I'll be able to say that I was lucky for having it. But I doubt it. Because I don't think I'll ever get over the place she carved inside, that I still hold in the shape of her.