Today.

Today I looked at pictures of a very dear friend of mine. This person was my one best friends, always understanding, always there for me, always willing to listen.

Until, that is, they decided that their new get-drunk friends were more worth their time than me. They called me less often than they used to, and visits were even more scarce. But the funny thing is, no matter how long it took them to call me back, or visit me, or be remotely present in my life, I could never stay mad. Never. I could be completely angry and upset, and vow to let them have it when I next saw them, and be absolutely fuming for days; then, they would show up on my doorstep and suddenly, every bad feeling would just...go away. The second I saw them, I was happy. I completely forgot about everything I had stored away to tell them, like how I hated that I felt forgotten, that I felt unworthy of my best friend's time, that I hated the glimpse I had of who they were becoming. They even forgot about the concert they promised to take me to-I still have the tickets-and even so, I couldn't bring myself to mar the time I had with them, however fleeting.

It took me a while to figure out why I could never do it, why I could never tell them how much I wished they hadn't changed.

Then one day, I finally got it. I had fallen in love with my best friend.

I had to say it aloud for it to finally register, but it did. I was so joyful every time he came around, I completely wrote off every shitty thing he did, I made excuses for him time and time again. Any other friend I would have confronted by that point, but no this one.

Then, as ironically and tragically as a Shakespeare story, my best friend changed. Not two weeks after I realized I loved him, he completely changed. He started to blow off the people he'd been blowing me off with for even scummier people. His lifestyle, goals, even his outlook on life changed.

And, to top it off, he'd found, not just a girl, but a girl he loved. And slept with, and partied with, and blew me and everybody else off with.

So, while I was mustering up the courage to tell him how I felt, he told me about how amazing this scumbag girlfriend who drinks and does drugs and lives in a shitty part of town is.

I had to hear every sordid detail of their relationship, wishing I was her and realizing that there was no way I could possibly have a smidgen of what I want.

He hasn't called me since the beginning of June, and he hasn't been the best friend he used to be since last December. And you know what?

I realized today that, despite everything-how shitty a friend he's been, how heartbroken he's made me, how he's not the person I used to know, I still love him. I still love him, still hate who he's with, and I still hate that I'm not her.

All the shit I've been through, and I'm still making excuses for him.

....And there's not a day where I don't wish he'd call.

"I Miss You"

This summer, someone I'd grown up with in church since the age of three died at the age of 19. His name was Matt Butler. He was murdered. I almost put up the entire story of how he died and what happened, etc, but that's not why I started to write this. A thought occurred to me today, and I don't want that thought to turn into an angry lashing-out.

At Matt's funeral, the church was so packed that only a limited number of people could be in the actual sanctuary-most people were in the fellowship hall or outside; they hooked up speakers so that we could hear the eulogy. Sadly, I didn't know Matt very well-I couldn't really call him anything more than a peer. Now, looking back at the lives he touched, the people who loved him, I wish I were able to call him a friend.

The realization that hit me today came about when my iPod was on shuffle-the song "I Miss You" by Incubus came on. They played that song at Matt's funeral, after the hearse drove away and people were leaving. My friend and I were looking at the flowers and posters of Matt, and I think that, for the rest of my life, every time I hear this song I will picture the beautiful church interior, with the flowers and sunlight, and the irony of the beauty tangled with loss. I may not always feel sad when I hear it....then again, I may.

But I realized, as I heard the words "I miss you," that this was sort of a preparation for when I lose a good friend. When I heard Matt had died, I was shocked, because he was so young, and sad, because he was a good person, but not completely devastated, as I didn't know him so well. Now I realize that's not the only thing to take in. What I needed to see-what took me a while-is that someday I'll be the best friend delivering the eulogy at a dear friend's funeral. I will break down when I hear the news. I will be the one with the huge hole in my heart, and my life.

As a Christian, I know that I'll see Matt again. The song speaks the truth-"I know I'll see you again, whether far or soon." On the sidewalk at Matt's memorial, I wrote, "See you, okay?" because I will. Someday. I'll finally be able to call him my friend, and not regret not getting to know him more. For now, I just have the picture in my head of him laughing, and the knowledge that cherishing the time you have and living it to the fullest, with as much love as you can, is the only way to truly live.

"If I die tomorrow, it'll be okay, because I'll have lived life to the fullest."-Matt Butler