The Strong Friend

There’s something stirring in my spirit. Searching for clarity while the vision is cloudy. Maybe due to my fears or due to my tears welling up over glazed eyes as I try to suppress it all.

See, as the strong friend, I’m not allowed bad days. With a reputation as resilient, struggle seems to be just another thing to break through. To you. But to me, it still feels heavy. A weight on my chest, compressing the hopes and dreams. Creating doubt, forcing fear, focusing faith, but breeding discontent, distrust, disdain, disbelief, and disappointment.

As the strong friend, I sit with all of this. Alone of course, because to you, I was built for this. But to me, this is a muscle that is overgrown. It’s mass displacing space for other parts to develop. Constricting around weaker muscles, less used, but not for lack of trying. Muscles that are the active focus for growth but aren’t exercised. Functional only in theory because there is no practice.

See, I’m the strong friend. The one who holds space for everyone and every one of their problems. A safe space to bear souls without fear of judgment. But when the tides turn, the doors close. Forced into isolation, unable to find comfort, a hand, a shoulder, an ear.

As the strong friend, my problems seem to big for you to comprehend. You inject your fears onto my vision. Your advice is to quit, because your exposures haven’t shown you anything to say to help articulate a way out.

So, I’m the strong friend. Unable to vent, because these problems are bigger than what your experience could hold. And I should be happy to even have these problems of my own, because your dreams stopped short of the levels I’m beholden to, those that I am trying to break through.

As the strong friend, my grace makes things look in place as I struggle to not wear my struggle on my face, because looking good means feeling good, and energy comes full circle.

So, I’m the strong friend. But weak. Unraveling, searching for purpose, leaning to God, because he’s the one friend who can comprehend the things that are transpiring. Listening for dear life but struggling to hear the words necessary to order the steps and make the paths clear.

It’s bittersweet to be the strong friend.