Her Friend…Until Further Notice

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This morning, I felt inspired to write the below. It stems from one of the biggest lessons I’ve learned in my adult life…I think it’s a poem…but I’m not sure yet. However, I can confirm that it is a Lament. I call it ‘Her Friend’…Until Further Notice.

…and in all things, consider what it means to be her ‘friend’.
She jumps at the opportunity to know you, in the hope that you will be her convenience; cater to her needs; lay endless offerings of patience and tolerance at her feet; volunteer to be her advantage…and how dare you merely ask for something (if a crumb) in return!

…and in all things, consider what it means to be her ‘friend’.
She burdens others with a misguided conception of ‘you’; restricting all hopes for you to extend an abundance of love; entangling you in her web of manipulation and cocooning you in a false sense of security. Secrets slip and the depths of your soul is reduced to a notification on facebook…but she swears she was never talking about you when she posted everything but your name.

…and in all things, consider what it means to be her ‘friend’. She has calculated down to the second, how long she must endure you before hanging you out to dry. She thrusts empty promises upon you – some of which she convinces herself of. And when she realises the work she’s made for herself , she drops you like a bad egg. In an attempt to absolve herself, she sends the odd text- instigating conversations that she NEVER follows through. Her cold apparel hides the burning envy she has for you – which she does let slip from time to time…but ‘only as a joke’.

…and in all things, consider what it means to be her ‘friend’. Her connection to some sort of self-proclaimed deity, by default, demands the howls and salivating of others…and she expects nothing different from you. Irrespective of your respect for her beliefs, she forces theoretical barbed wire down your throat, and as you bleed nothing but kindness, she outweighs your screams to a heavy metal melody, singing; “…you’re going to hell and I’m telling you this out of love…enough about you, let’s talk about me…there is only one god, the deacon I’m shagging told me…it’s justified sex cos we all fall short of the glory…don’t tell his wife…come with me to the abortion clinic?!”

…and in all things, consider what it means to be her ‘friend’. She’s lurking round the corners, peering at your desk, sniffing in your lunch box, picking up your phone ‘by mistake’, just passing through the area so she thought she’d knock, asking more than enough questions regarding your weight, dress size, sex life, account details, curious as to how you came out so ‘yellow’ and warning you of what may happen to brown girls who get above their station, inviting you to lunches that she cancels last minute (even though she didn’t have to) and she’s waiting…just waiting to document a slip of your vulnerability and as a testament to victory, destroy!

…and in all things, consider what it means to be her ‘friend’.

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