Conversations Meant for My Friend

Here’s the thing. Having others read your inner most thoughts and conversations that were meant for your best friend feels like a betrayal and disloyalty. It feels kinda of like you’ve left the window drapes open and all the world is watching you undress a little more each night. You don’t notice it, at first, because you’re so caught up in feeling lost, that you just keep going. Then suddenly, one night, you notice the light slicing across your shoulder from the window and you feel EXPOSED, NAKED. It dawns on you. Others are watching, listening, reading over your shoulder. And all of a sudden, you find yourself conflicted, wanting to monitor your words. To stop talking. To be quiet. To not betray confidences. I’m feeling that. I find myself wanting to draw the blinds. I miss my friend.


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