Conversations aren’t easy. Not for me. I don’t know if you knew that, but now you do. You will probably think back to that night, the night we sat together staring at the moon talking for hours. We took turns drinking water for the small water cup I had in my bathroom and split a bag of Cheetos. And if my memory serves me correctly, we also split a KitKat. I’ll be honest, I didn’t know you’d walk into my room when you did. I thought I’d just give you the bag of Cheetos and you’d leave.
People don’t often stay with me. I’ve been told I’m not an easy person to be around. I’ve been told I’m not all that great. I’ve had it stapled in my mind that I’m just not the girl anybody wants to have a conversation with, especially guys.
So, when you walked into my room and sat on my bed, I had no idea what to do.
I wish I could remember what you said exactly, but all I can remember is thinking, “He actually wants to talk to me?”
I think it was the calm you brought with you that made it easy for me to talk to you. Maybe it was the way you didn’t depend on me to drive the conversation and let the empty spaces between us stay empty. Maybe it was the smile you gave me when you pointed out my window gave us the perfect view of the full moon. It was the first night I sat with anyone for that long and didn’t want to crawl out of my own skin.
We spoke about a lot of different things. How we feel inadequate, how we don’t know what comes next and what’s expected of us. For the first time, I wasn’t afraid of what someone would think of me, my unfiltered self. And it was so easy to do. I felt liberated. I felt like I found a golden ticket to the exhibit called life. You spoke to me like I was a human being, letting me stop in the middle of sentences and telling me you get it. I’ve never been understood without having to explain myself.
I didn’t want to run out of things to say because I knew I would become that person again. The person that’s not easy to be around. I’d get awkward. I’d become not that great. But just like all moments, that moment, that conversation ended. And I sat there next to you, my mind scattering for words but coming up hopelessly empty and defeated. I didn’t become that person. I was just there, the same way you were. We were two people sitting in silence. Life is full of silent moments and those moments are bittersweet. I don’t know if your mind was looking for ways to fill the emptiness between us and it doesn’t matter. Sitting in silence with you was okay. You didn’t expect me to be more than I was. You didn’t expect me to fill the emptiness, you sat with me and the emptiness.
I didn’t realize it then that that was exactly how it needed to go. It didn’t matter that I didn’t want you to go.
The company you gave me for those hours we sat together was all the company I needed. I never had that kind of company. The kind of company that stays with me even after the person has left. That’s the best kind of company, and you gave that to me.
Before you closed the door, I thanked you. I don’t think you realized what I was thanking you for.
So, let me tell you:
Thank you for sitting with me that night and talking to me. Thank you for letting me be silent for a while and then letting me talk your ear off. Thank you for showing me that I’m not a difficult person to be around. Thank you for showing me the moon. Thank you for not staying when I asked you to. Thank you for letting those spoken hours remain full of solace.
Thank you for being my friend that night.