By Sovereign Mack

The Other Side: Honorable Mention

A free-spirit is great until you experience the true meaning of what it insinuates: nothing to grasp, nothing to hold onto, nothing to rely on. I was a lone island, constantly accepting wandering, broken visitors. They took my resources and left me empty. Then she came, and everything was different. She took, because I love to give, but she gave even more. Around her the wind seemed to sing, the sun burned brighter, the skeletons of the castaways decayed into rich earth, which she planted the most beautiful flowers upon. She was the ocean: great bursts of kinetic energy, whimsical movements, constantly rearranging the shapes of my coastline, each being more beautiful and surprising than the last. She surrounded my island, my island of fortitude, of solidity, of sentiment. She stayed, and I hoped she would last forever. Her fearlessness assuaged my habit of timidity, and I loved her for this. My emotional depth brought forth her ability for compassion. In each of us there was a hole the exact shape of the other, and for some time, we fit perfectly.

Until we didn’t.

I met her in the summer and we became best friends immediately. It was hard to find another young woman to befriend in this city, where everyone is in a secret competition to outdo the other. Not with us. She supported me and encouraged me unabashedly, and I was there for her to express herself, to listen and to offer my own peace when she needed it. We experienced a lot of life together, from smooth jazz nights and Amapiano nightclubs to sunny afternoons spent by the water, meditating and cultivating a deeper connection to our differing higher powers. We grew to have deep love for each other. I thought I could count on her.

When fall merged into winter, and the shortened days and cooler air drove people back inside, so too did her warmness begin to fade. She began to withdraw. We worked together so we were in each other’s presence often, but suddenly she started avoiding me. I saw her in full expression and laughing with other people, but when I spoke to her, she became devoid of affect. I asked what was wrong, she replied her life had become overwhelming and that she needed space away from people. She needed to retreat and recharge. I understood, of course; I loved her and was willing to give anything to support her. I, too, felt the draining effects of overwork, and fell into a depression. 

Time passed and, naturally, I needed support, so I called my friend and told her I was hurting and wanted the comfort of my friend. She coldly said sorry but she still wanted space. To add to my pain, I would overhear conversations with my coworkers about their wild nights out with her. I was stunned; I couldn’t understand why. Her and I were probably going out too much, imbibing, indulging in behaviors not ideal to growth. But we also spent together, I thought, equal time dedicated to expressing our inner worlds. I showed her the delight of painting, she played my piano while I sung, we talked about our pasts and romanticized about our futures. I confronted her again, this time as to why she seemed only to not want to be around me. She said I was a bad influence on her, that I was distracting. We spent too much time together, and she inherited  my bad habits from being in my company. 

This stung me to my core. And it was untrue, or, at least, her perspective was irrational. I had only ever went along with her whimsical impulses to socialize, and at that point I had stopped smoking, and was never much of a drinker. She, however, was. It was as if she was blaming me for her inability to cope in a healthy way. I reminded her of the goals we discussed earlier, a conversation she began, that we would stop wasting our energies on nonsense and instead channel them inwards, to bettering ourselves. She told me I was trying to control her, to limit her freedom, and that I wasn’t allowing her to be her independent self. But that was never the case. I was simply alone and fearful of the vast darkness residing within, and I thought I could rely on my friend to brighten my world as she had when we first met. I had brightened hers. Instead she abandoned me, washed me away, sent me to float solo once again.

Over the next few months, she, like waves upon sand, came and went capriciously. In high tide, when things were going well, I expected our friendship to last, but she disappeared just as swiftly as the sea beckons the low tide to return.