I could feel her constant presence, like my own personal witness to the crimes committed upon my soul. She would watch, comparing herself to the people I called friends, out in the world we like to call real. Sometimes, I could have sworn I heard her giggling from beyond; which I now recognize as an attempt to force upon me the realization that I so seeked. She was always there, watching them hurt me, and as I jerked in the quicksand, she supported me just enough with that branch but not enough that would allow me to climb out and pull her forward from the bushes.
I wonder if it is the result of irony that the recent abandonment of a woman, who used to call herself my friend, is what allowed me a proper glance of my faceless friend. So although I have yet to understand the utmost desire and satisfaction that that woman gets from torturing me, I thank her for her absurd actions allowed me to unmask that inner friend and pull out that strength and confidence that was hiding deep within. And although I know that the next two and a half years hold more jerks of the quicksand, I am confident that each experience will bring me closer to finding that inner ally. And eventually, we will surely fuse to become a single better person.
