She used to draw and paint and her desk had… suffered. It was Tina’s desk. She’d spent a lot of time there, it was her way of escaping when the thoughts were too much. She could stay hours, the worthy art went on the walls.
Since we started living together I learned a lot about my best friend. Thinking she was always happy I discovered that she could also be incredibly sad, and it would just happen. When she wasn’t alone it wasn’t so bad but she didn’t like to bother people. She’d downgrade herself and it was hard for her to believe anyone liked her, making it harder to call for help. There were times when I’d come home to find her curled up in bed trembling and it broke my heart. I’d hold her tight and tell her I loved her, and it was true. I loved her completely platonically but I loved her more than anything. And I knew she loved me too.
One night she took my hand and had that wild look she got sometimes, saying “Let’s escape”. Last time we’d taken a late train away from Paris, and spent the night watching the stars. Space was something that fascinated us both. This look wasn’t playful though, she was hurt. Nightly excursions weren’t new, her favourite place to go was St. Michel. Sometimes we’d go wandering the cobbled streets with the souvenirs, crêpes, musicians; this time we sat along the Seine. She looked at me hesitantly, then kissed me on the lips, which was an odd thing for her to do in this state. The wild look dissipated as she leaned into the wall. “I love you. Never forget that.” She’d said. I knew what she’d meant but I was afraid of why she was saying it. She started shaking. “What’s wrong with me?” I held her and told her it was ok, that I was there for her. “Everyone else is gone” She whispered. I told her it wasn’t her fault, I knew she knew it, but it still hurt. “No-one’ll ever love me.”
“That’s not true,” I told her “I love you, and the others still love you.” I cited the short list of names of the people who were closest to her. “And I’m sure one day you’ll find the right person and you’ll both fall in love.”
I didn’t know if it was helping. I knew she was torturing herself and she knew it was hurting me. I didn’t mind, even the best people have bad moments. “I don’t deserve you.” She’d regretted that as soon as she’d said it. I shook her and looked her in the eye, “You deserve better than me Tina, but you at least deserve me. You have to know that.” She let herself be pulled back into my arms and kept saying “I’m sorry.” She was sorry for having said that, she was sorry about how she felt, she was sorry to be such a bother. I held her until she calmed down.
The following day we argued a lot, she wanted to get help so I told her to see a psychologist, she wanted to be locked up where she could stop hurting people until she got better. I was afraid that would just make it worse and I said I’d rather she be home than there alone.
When she left I was mainly angry at myself for not having been able to do more. I missed her and it hurt to know her there, she needed to be near her friends, I was scared for her. I looked through her desk drawers wondering what I’d missed. There was a sketch of one person being held protectively against another. It wasn’t much more than shapes but there was a message:
“If you ever read this I want you to know that you’re the biggest reason I haven’t gone mad. I just wanted to say thank you. But you probably won’t see this. I just wanted you to know.”
I put it away gently, not wanting it to get wet from my tears. I didn’t know what to do. I guess I finally felt some of the sadness she’d felt. I lay on the bed for ages. Maybe I’d gotten too attached to her, but I wasn’t apologising for that.
Tina’s desk is gone now. I wasn’t in love, but I did love her and I hope she’s okay.
Je t’aime, l’oublies pas…
Hey so it’s been a while since I’ve posted anything or even been on wordpress but seeing as I’m supposed to have a little more time now I’m doing my internship I wanted to get back into this. I messed this up so it’s late so I don’t think many people will see this… I’ll try harder next week.
When I first wrote this it had twice as many words, unfortunately I’m only allowed 750 T_T so this may seem a little short, I don’t know.
Writing is a game I suppose, the art of hiding things in plain sight… what part of that was true? What of it was me? Maybe some of you have an idea of who I am… but can you ever really know? (Is this a trick question meaning this post was completely fiction?)
Nate I was shocked to realise that although I’m an IT student I still don’t know exactly how the internet works but I will get back to you on that 😉