Have i ever told you…

I have all types of friends. Quiet, silly, adventurous, revolutionary, etc… The revolutionary one sometimes comes up in the news either with his face blacked out or altered deepened voice (which, i tend to assume is to hide his identity from the entities he’s trying to fight) but then i find him posting selfies on facebook detailing what he’s done lately. Revolution is gonna take a while, i said revolutionary, not bright. And most of my friends i’ve known since forever. Some go back to pre-school and every now and then we get together and we become the same kids that tried to emulate “The Goonies” (plug-in to the movie if you haven’t seen it yet).

But today i’m posting about one of the few exceptions that i’ve known for a less period of time and consider a friend. We met through work a few years ago. I don’t really remember what made me like her instantly but i did. We just sort of clicked. Her liking me is obvious, ’cause i am, well, i am me and i’m very likable to say the least (it is all true, i promise.) We became the go-to people at work to push things forward while being the goofs as well. I have so many stories of us together ranging from funny to dramatic. Often starting one way, ending up the other. A few years, which now in retrospective seems a lifelong ago, we were having the same romantic issues at the same time. Just imagine me going through a crisis with my girlfriend at the time giving her advice on how to deal with her love problems. And the same way around. Sometimes this comes up and we end up realizing the stupidity of it all. Every time we have a work related get together she makes me sit next to her. “You have to, otherwise what is the point of coming to theses things if you gonna be sitting far from me?”. It is an unspoken rule but everyone pretty much knows, we sit together and that is it. We are more mature now (well, she tends to be) so we kind of have a sip or so of wine or whatever but we used to get pretty wasted at these things. One time, after one of these things, we went to a bar. We were pretty drunk and we get to the counter waiting our turn to ask for drinks and she goes ” whatever happens, don’t leave me alone. im pretty wasted right now!”, And i’m like “dude, i got you. Let them alcohol roll” As soon as i have my drink in my hand i disappear. I don’t really remember much after that but i think i left the bar with my drink and just went home. Of course she grilled me the next day but we had a laugh too.

A while ago, she told me that throughout the years that we’ve known each other, she has seen people come and go and gets surprised at how many of them get a sort of clingyness (is that a word? it is now) to me. “I’m charming”, i joked, and she goes like “yeah, i can see it. i just don’t understand it” It took me a full day for my ego to deflate to recognize that it wasn’t a compliment. What a bitch! But that is how we deal with each other. I tell the most absurd things and she slaps me for it and yet laughs at what i say. She is my test-audience and i love her for it.

I know that she might read this. I’m hoping she does. Because i want her to know that, even though right now we are on opposite sides of the religion spectrum, i’m clinging to that small bit of faith left in me to tell you that one day all your dreams will come true. You have a purpose that i know will be fulfilled. You just have to hold on a little bit longer. And i’ll be here for you the same way you’re here for me. Always.

Let’s get wasted one of these days.

 

Santiago Roque

Author: santiago roque

I can predict the future. If given the right topic. Often confusing, i am mostly me on emotional steroids.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.