A best friend isn’t someone who’s just always there for you; it’s someone who understands you a bit more than you understand yourself. And maybe knows what’s good for you even when you don’t.
“You think he’ll hurt me?” she whispered sadly, starring into the eyes of Honesty. Honesty shook his head back and forth slowly though, taking a moment to answer her.
“I didn’t say that,” he finally replied.
“Then what are you saying?”
“I just don’t trust him.”
“And why not?” she sat down, on the verge of tears while Honesty put his hands around her shoulders comfortingly.
“Easy. I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He shushed her as she sobbed into his shirt, staining it with her water works.
“Its okay … just be honest with me.” That’s my only job.
“That’s just it. I don’t trust him.”
“But why not? He’s … trustworthy.” Her voice wasn’t persuasive, she probably didn’t believe herself. Sniffing, “He said he would never hurt me.”
“And I’m not saying he will. I’m just saying … that his motives aren’t right.”
“Yes they are,” she argued back fiercely. “He likes me and I like him.”
“But … why does he like you?” She didn’t answer and Honesty nodded again. “That’s what I wanna know too.”
I know the answer.
He meant to. But she didn’t.
Yes it happened.
Yes she regrets it.
But she didn’t mean it.
He meant it. But she didn’t.
Don’t be disappointed in me. I couldn’t bear to handle that emotion. Scream and shout, yell and pout. Just don’t be disappointed in me.
Feeling that way toward myself is enough, don’t you think? I don’t need your dissatisfaction as well.
Are you trying to make me cry again … … … it’s working.
Yes I've thought about this. Often. Where has he been?