I think everyone has that one friend that no matter how many fights you get into or how different the people you speak to are you will always be close. Through the somewhat rude and subliminal MSN name quotes to the late night phone conversations underneath the bed covers. I have to say that I don’t regret one bit how things have turned out. Though there have been times when awkward locker walk-bys gave dirty looks and messages were passed through friends of a friend, nothing’s ever really changed that much. We’ve had the same inside jokes since the beginning and the same pet peeves, too.
Friendships always start the same, right? I mean you meet someone, you talk to them, you find things in common between the two of you, and bam! You’ve hit it off. But what is it really that makes a friendship fall apart? Lack of communication? Maybe, but that’s the same for all relationships. What—deep down—destructs a friendship? If lies weren’t told, only mistakes were made, and competition was always present what prevents a friend from being a friend anymore? For me, it takes something big.
If you know me well, I am the first one to forgive someone else no matter who they are. Whether they’ve broke my heart, broken my trust, or disgusted me all together, I am always the first person to welcome them back in my life. This time, though, was different.
I’ve never written this out before, so excuse me if I sound rude, ignorant, and all that. I don’t really remember how we started being friends. I basically recall a grade five morning where she came up to the girl sitting beside me and tossed her a sheet of paper. I was later asked to transcribe what the writing read, but I couldn’t make it out. Not that her writing was messy, it was really pretty actually. I don’t know why I couldn’t read it. I made a mistake right then and there by saying something I wasn’t sure of. But, if I remember correctly, from that moment we started to speak. Even if the first few words that crossed our lips were hatred or just two nine year old Italian girls thinking the way they were brought up, I know that’s when something sparked.
I remember always thinking that she was someone I wanted to know and by now I tell you that I do know her. Though there may be some things we’ve left unsaid, it’s pretty understandable where we rest with each other, today.
The next memory I have of our friendship has to do with her calling me “Liv” at the Science Centre in front of my mom. My mom hated when people called me that. She would snap back and say, “Her name’s Leviana.” I thought it was cool, actually because I had a nickname. I never had a nickname before that. But, since that day she has never failed to call me by my full name. I guess that’s my first sign that when she knows she’s made a mistake she corrects it for all time.
Basically, her and I have been friends (off and on, but mainly on) since that grade five school day. We’ve talked about boys, laughed about boys, eaten so many carbs in one sitting that we couldn’t move after, cried, fought, and gotten all dolled up to take a billion pictures (by all dolled up I mean concealer on our lips and white nail polish to boot). We’ve both said hurtful things to one another but important things too.
When we fought that last time, it was bad. I sat in my room clenching my pillow not knowing what to do. All I had done was forgotten one plan and that was it. We exchanged words and it was over. The numerous times she had tried to talk to me I was defensive and I felt that I had a reason to be. But, I had no one else that knew about the fights I’ve had with my family the way she did. She was the only one who told me I could take risks. I didn’t know where to turn. All I had known was her, my best friend from grade five. From March break until the end of the summer, we lost it all.
So, when I asked at the beginning of this blog what it takes to destruct a friendship, I didn’t know the answer. I still don’t know the answer because I haven’t experienced one. Sure, I’ve gone through bad times and new people but who hasn’t?
I remember clearly that day when she told me she was sorry. For some reason I didn’t snap, I wasn’t defensive, and I just listened. The way she spoke, I knew she wasn’t kidding. Each and every day that goes by, I know she meant it too. “Sorry” is a word tossed around like “Hello.” It’s real tough to mean it. But to this day she remembers everything that happened and so do I. She doesn’t let it get between us. And to this day, she shows how much she really meant it.
Like I said, I am the first person to forgive. I never forget, though. In this case, it’s for the better. Every time her and I see each other or talk, the improvement from that last blow up is there. The friendship is rekindled each time. Memories are reflected. Memories are grown.
I apologize if this came across not how you expected but I didn’t mean for it to sound negative. When you said you liked reading my personal blogs and that my writing always made you happy tonight, it meant the world to me. You and I have always had that type of relationship that doesn’t need to be explained a million times to be understood. So I seriously want you to know from the bottom of my heart that it’s okay. You know I will always be your friend, honestly. From Sicilian cookies to homemade pasta, from Massari to Shawn Desman, I swear that everything from grade five to tomorrow means the world to me. As do you.
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