Broken hearted

August 12, 2012

If you’ve read my past posts you’ll know of all the times I’ve been jumped on a daily basis in high school. I’ve built up a physical endurance to pain and had gotten stronger from them, but while they say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, there are certain damages that are left permanent and unscathed from time; broken trust. They cut deeper than a knife and the wounds are left in your heart, lingering unforgotten.

When I was younger I had what I thought would had been one of my best friends in life. We’ve talked of childish dreams of growing old together with our kids sharing the same friendship we had; it was all ignorant talk, said at a time when we both knew little of the scope of life. But that’s how close we were, the world our playground. We did a lot of things together, and even in those boring memories we cherished them, because they involved us two.

I’ve heard of a psychological term from my friend once called “finding the underbelly,” which means digging out the true nature of a person. The first couple of interactions with people are muddled in formalities, and then you start feeling each other out after the third or fourth meeting, settling on how your friendship was going to be like. I’ve always thought I knew this person like the back of my hand, but it’s always funny that guys show their true colors when women were involved.

I knew he was a player and protected him from those that tried disparaging his image. He was my best friend, I didn’t care what he did was wrong. Bros over hoes, he told me that himself, and I believed him. I believed in a lot of things at that time, I was too trusting. He always told me he had my back and would kill a (expletive) for me. I ate that up and thought we had a mutual level of respect for each other, which was why I turned a blind eye to all he did wrong.

There was a girl that I somewhat liked, and although she didn’t return the same level of interest, there was something there, so I pursued it. My best friend gave me pointers, who had thrice the experience on me at the time, so I followed what he said. Things were up and down with me and the girl; it went well, and then suddenly it didn’t. The chase went on for about a month, to which I finally gave up knowing she wouldn’t brook her stance on me. Which bothered me, because no guy likes to admit getting rejected, but that’s life, and I knew I would get over it.

And then one day, when I was hanging out with my friends, I caught my best friend, and the girl, making out in the living room. My heart tightened, my breathing patterns going haywire at the sight of it. I wanted to beat the living shit out of him; I wanted to disappear off the face of the earth. I didn’t want to be there; I wanted to forget I ever saw that. All that friendship we’ve collected shattered in mere moments.

In the months that followed things were different with us. I acted like nothing was wrong, but I’m terrible at hiding what’s really on my mind. He confronted me about it a couple of times, sensing the drift, but I never wanted to rekindle it; I wanted it to sizzle out. I hated him, and even to this day, with all the years that had past since that incident, I’ve never forgiven him.

What bugged the hell out of me about was all the implications that one event dawned on me. Our friendship was built on lies the entire time. All those flowery words of brotherly affection was drivel to feed into my trust. He never respected me, or he wouldn’t had done that. He never valued how I felt. He was never really my friend. I was played for a fool. In the grand scheme of things that girl I liked never mattered, but she exploited my friend’s underbelly. Words were empty to me from then on.

Broken hearts were often committed by couples in a relationship, but mine was shattered by one of my best friends. I’ve learned from it, but my heart didn’t harden, it’s as soft as it always been. Broken trust, it cuts like a knife, and leaves a wound that never disappears.