I have, or had, a friend, whom I knew for several years.
I’m so picky in choosing friends, ever since I began choosing them. I usually, almost always, realized wrong choices after a very short time of beginning the friendship, except that particular one. When someone comes close to me, I not only give them support, I give them part of my soul. Whenever I see them better, or see them succeed, or see them recover from a mischief, I see part of my soul in them. I don’t usually have good relations with far family members. Instead, I tend to choose those I like to be close to.
That friend, whom I knew for several years, had all my support throughout our friendship, hoping they will be an important person in some part of their life. Part of this importance, is to succeed to holding their integrity intact, to believe in justice, to observe before following one of the cattles scattered right now in this volatile time. To not defend people with blood on their hands under any justification. But that dream just died immaturely, leaving a big hole in me. That hole is increasing with the struggle to keep or lose this friendship which had big hopes. It is like a beholden boy gone rouge against everything you believed in, everything that you fought for. When that moment comes, when I should end this friendship, and the moment is near, it will be like betraying your own boy after nurturing him for so long. I never felt that intense internal struggle before, and I don’t want anyone to feel it.