Tightrope of Friendship

Last night, I enjoyed my usual ritual at the local bar, The Mining Company. My wonderful friend, "Godfather", met me there at the same time in the same spot. But this time, a couple of my hetero friends (my Fag Hag and another co-worker) came along. It was a night filled with salty peanuts, stiff drinks, and rather interesting conversation.

Last night, my heart went out to my 'fag hag', who mechanically snapped photos of us having a good time. Every time I looked into her eyes, I could tell that she is still struggling... fighting... clawing her way to better times when her heart will finally be mended.

We tend to go through bad times together, she and I. We both had our hearts broken last year; but unlike me, she is still literally in a fight for her life. As a friend, I've tried my best to stay in the shadows until I'm called upon... but I just might need to reassess my strategy.

She weeps louder. She curses more. She's an insomniac.... and it kills me that a man wormed his way into her heart over the years, and then yanked the rug off from under a nice, sweet lady like her. Meanwhile, I am standing idly and watching her spiral into the abyss with a hardening rage. Hatred knocks at her door, and I feel powerless to do anything more than listen and be there.

Many years ago, a friend of mine committed suicide -- and in hindsight, I beat myself up for not seeing warning signs blaring in my face. What if I'm missing them again?

*Sigh*.... being a friend in today's world seems to be all about walking tightropes, watching your back, and dodging landmines. When a friend is going through tough times, doing something could be just as good or bad as doing nothing. All I know is, when it comes to my friendship with the Fag Hag, I am so deep in the fog that I'm not sure of anything anymore.

I just don't want her to do something stupid....