"Love is awful. It's awful. It's painful. It's frightening. It makes you doubt yourself, judge yourself, distance yourself from the other people in your life. It makes you selfish. It makes you creepy, makes you obsessed with your hair, makes you cruel, makes you say and do things you never thought you would do. It's all any of us want, and it's hell when we get there. So no wonder it's something we don't want to do on our own. I was taught if we're born with love then life is about choosing the right place to put it. People talk about that a lot, feeling right, when it feels right, it's easy. But I'm not sure that's true. It takes strength to know what's right. And love isn't something that weak people do. Being a romantic takes a hell of a lot of hope. I think what they mean is, when you find somebody that you love, it feels like hope."
- Hot Priest (Fleabag, Phoebe Waller-Bridge, 2016)
"If you leave, you have to do it now because I won't cope with you leaving me later. Do you understand?"
"I do. I'm here, aren't I? I've always known what I was getting myself into. And I will only leave if you push me away. Do you understand?"
"I do."
"Do you really? Do you understand what that means?"
"I do."
Sophie sat bundled up in white blankets, her notebook in hand, carefully annotating her memories from several months ago as a storm raged outside her window. Soft music played from her speakers as she attempted to warm her feet under a pillow.
Since starting therapy, these kinds of evenings had become more and more productive for Sophie. Journaling had been a way for her to review her thoughts throughout the years. You see, Sophie had been the victim of severe trauma, causing her to doubt her own mind and wonder if she was going insane. Writing became a means for her to validate her perceptions and views of the world. After some time, she realized she had been gaslit for years. A few months later, she found the strength to leave that situation and never look back. Journaling had become a valuable tool for her.
Additionally, Sophie was struggling with the aftermath of her mother's death. The loss continued to haunt her, and she was determined to find a family, which often led her down perilous paths and caused strain in her personal relationships.
Across the ocean, ahead by a few hours, sat Max, the Sophie's best friend. The bright sun rays surrounded him as he battled with the piercing light that interrupted his morning drowsiness. Sipping on a Coke Zero and munching on his overnight oats, he sat at his kitchen table journaling, struggling to shake off the residual effects of a traumatic event from a few months back. Despite his depression and general dissatisfaction with life, he remained a self-sacrificing, kind and honorable man. It was important to note, however, that he had been a victim of severe trauma and had moved to a different country to rebuild his life far from his abuser.
True to his character, Max bravely faced his past and confronted the traumatic experiences that had led to his current state. He endeavored to make amends with those he had hurt and searched for purpose and fulfillment in his life. Additionally, he had been diagnosed as a high-functioning borderline and was struggling with the aftermath of his father's death. The loss continued to haunt him, and he was determined to find a family, a quest that often led him down treacherous paths and caused tension in his personal relationships.
They had been friends for years. Having met in college, their friendship had survived long-distance and different life phases.
He slams his hands on the kitchen table, his face red with anger. She sits there, terrified but trying to maintain a calm demeanor, her hands tightly crossed on her lap. She feels confused and hurt, but she doesn't want to show it. As he yells at her, she flinches, but then she starts to feel defiant.
She thinks of ways to try to de-escalate the situation. "You burst into my room, screamed at me that you were uncomfortable with my presence in your own home," she says. "When I asked why, you said I had to know why and slammed the door, leaving me there."
He continues to yell, "You abandoned me!"
"No," she says. "You did! You left without a word, and I waited for you to come back home. But you never did!"
He yells again, "You abandoned me!"
She starts to get frustrated. "You sent me away!" she says. "Why would I stay?"
"You abandoned me!" he yells again.
"I've always wanted to be here for you," she says. "I am right here! Why can't you see I am right here? Just tell me what you want from me."
He finally seems to calm down. "You didn't abandon me?" he asks.
"You left me first," she replies. "But I have to know, what do you want?"
"I want you to make up your mind," he says. "If you want to leave, you better do it now, because I won't take it if you abandon me later."
She refuses to give up. "I stand by what I said all those years ago," she says. "I am not going to change my mind. I will stay as long as you want me to. You'll have to send me away. I'm not going to give up on you. You are my family."
"Then stay," he says.
"I will," she says. "I just have one thing to ask of you."
"What?" he asks.
"When I knock on your door, please let me in," she says.
He is livid, red faced, have just slammed his hands on the kitchen table.
She is absolutely terrified, but trying not to maintain a calm demeanor, not to show herself as affected, controlled hands tightly crossed on her lap, a sense of confusion and hurt, threatening to burst through her hidden tears.
HIM
- "You abandoned me!"
With each syllable, a slam on the table, fists closed with barely any sense of. At the first slam, a flinch from her. The next second, a defiant hot feeling comes over her.
- "If he wants to fight, we'll fight" - she thought. But first, let's de-escalate the situation.
She looks at him.
HER
- "You burst into my room, screamed at me for what it felt like hours that you were uncomfortable with my presence at your own home, and when I asked why, you said I had to know why, that you didn't want to have to tell me, slammed the door and left me!"
Even louder, he screams.
HIM
- "You abandoned me!"
HER
- "No! You did! You left me without a word! I waited for you to come back home! You didn't!"
HIM
- "You abandoned me!"
The control starts to slip. She starts to get frustrated.
HER
- "You sent me away! You left! Why would I stay?"
HIM
- "You abandoned me!"
HER
- " I've always wanted to be here! Why can't you see that I always wanted to be right here for you? I am right here!"
HIM
- "You abandoned me!"
HER
- "I'm here! You can't scream at me you don't want me at your house, slam the door and when I leave, beg me to come back! I am not your toy! Just tell me what you want! What do you want?"
A double take. A beat.
HIM
- "You didn't abandon me?"
HER
- "You left me first, babe. But I have to know, what do you want?"
HIM
- "I want you to make up your mind. If you want to leave, you better do it now, because I won't take it if you abandon me later."
Her hands bleed with the (hope) rope she refuses to let go.
HER
- "I stand by what I said all those years ago, I am not going change my mind. I will stay as long as you want me to. You'll have to send me away. I'm not going to give up on you. I mean it, you are my family. So if you don't want me to leave, just don't send me away."
HIM
- "Then stay."
HER
- "I will. I just have one thing to ask of you."
HIM
- "What?"
HER
- "When I knock on your door, please let me in."
"I loved my friend.
He went away from me.
There's nothing more to say.
The poem ends,
Soft as it began,—
I loved my friend."
- Poem (Langston Hughes, 1901-1967)
