Friday, February 24, 2012

The Healer of my Spirit, the Butcher of my Soul

Of all the people in the world one should always be wary of their closest friends, for they are the ones who know our dirty secrets. Your best friend is the most dangerous enemy you could make, they know what ticks you off. There are times when they use your own weakness just to take a dig at your old scars, you tell them sternly no to do it. Some are mature enough to know they are wrong, and some are arrogant enough to pay no heed to your words. They scratch at it, they poke at it, they add salt to it and then they watch you writhe in pain.

Maybe they do it just to teach you to embrace your fears, they try to force the truth down your throat so that you could digest it and crap it out of your system. You want to call them a bastard and spit on their face and make it even worse, or you could do damage control by calling them a bastard and walking away hoping they would realize their folly and apologize. You realize the damage a tongue can do and you keep it on a tight leash as you refrain from saying something that would only make things worse. Within you seethes a rage that could make you bitch slap him to put him in his place, instead you bite your tongue, lick your wounds and walk away.

You wonder how fragile the castle of friendship you built with your friends over the years is that it could be broken by a few words spoken at the heat of the moment, you have after all built it with bricks of trust and cemented it with a silent promise that you won't let this castle crumble come what may. And when you see cracks in the wall you wonder if the castle was made of bricks or of sand. 

I wonder what made my friend do what he did, to say what he said, on a Monday morning at that, when all I wanted to do was to bury myself with work so that my mind never wandered off to thoughts about her. It was not like my work involved painting the Sistine Chapel but that is all I had to keep myself from scratching the itch. Maybe because he had a good life going on for him, a high paying job and marriage proposals flying around him that gave him the obnoxious right to mock my hidden secret that was only known to him.

"I bumped into her profile, she is looking hot on her Facebook page so I thought of simply giving you a call!" 

I reply with a cold silence.

"She has over 200 subscribers" he goes on.

I punctuate the cold silence by gritting my teeth audible enough for him to hear over the other end.

"Man she has some 600 friends, almost a 200 likes on that hot pic of hers, mostly by guys." he sneers.

"Behenchod, behen ke laude, you cocksucker stop talking about her, I've told you enough times already." I spew venom only to realize that I was coming across as a sea of filth to the girl sitting next to me who uncomfortably shifts away from me in the office cab.

He guffaws to his heart's content making me look like a circus clown who had stripped butt naked for his amusement. 

Naked is what you become when you share your fears, your dreams and desires to that friend. Your best friends are of a strange breed, they see through your scars and they count your wounds. They heal your spirit with their words, but sometimes they butcher your soul with their malevolent intent. It is up to us whether we embrace the healer or slap the butcher.


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