‘Best friends’ were like bombs that blow up, that die, that abandon.
Then some stood strong, were there, lasted and offered me to trust those words again…
And trust is not a strong point for the vigilant, those too sacred to accumulate more bruises.
I learned that sometime ‘best friends’ will blow up and some will die and some will abandon but that these are usually not my pieces to pick up…
even giving up and giving in can be a choice to make no choice, and those choices are thiers…
and I owe it to nobody to go down with their sinking ship… especially not myself
But in time other ‘best friends’ last and blossom and be like trees that last 100 years…
and never leave no bitter taste upon those words…
and both types exist in the garden of friendship and closeness,
and we get no choice but to try and to risk or to stagnate and fear.
if I am traumatised by the trees that fell,
the roses that died,
the thorns that remained,
I will not trully enjoy the rest of the garden,
merely dabble in it tentatively,
reamining busy as if my life depended upon it, giving, afraid to take,…
and life is for diving into with great abandon,
autism can teach us this if we dare listen,
but learning from it is much much harder.
… Donna Williams