Sometimes I do wish I could read into his mind and then
manipulate it in such a way that he’d finally see how much potential I’m sure
he has to conquer all of his fears and move forward in life. Then again, I’m
not quite sure what exactly his fears contain, nor how much of a hindrance they
might be. Maybe I wish I could read into his mind because his actions never
seem to line up with his words that eventually come. I feel like I’ve watched
him at a distance for so long, and then when I got a close-up I fell into
confusion. Confusion because I couldn’t figure out if I liked it or not. Being
close and knowing someone’s story has never been so frightening until I found
myself close to him.
Most people have this natural distance. And for the most
part, he’s had it too. But there have been enough moments where he opens up and
I see that distance decrease. He’d tell me his wonders, his fears, his worries,
and the things that bring him down. Then there were moments where he’d
completely dismiss a certain topic, giving me the impression that it’s a dark
road he’s avoiding in that moment. He’ll say words like, “I’d rather not talk
about that right now,” and I let it linger for a while in my own mind, feeling
like I scraped a scab on accident and regretted the gesture.
In the moments that I do find myself too close, I get afraid
enough to step back. I don’t mind when I hug him goodbye because then I have
time to think, to be more like myself, and breathe when he’s away. It’s not
that he suffocates me, he doesn’t. He’s a challenging friend though. His
behavior is much different than anyone I’ve ever known. At times I can be
laughing, having fun, but other times I can suddenly feel unlike myself. I feel
this uncomfortable feeling, as if I’m placing a thick wall between us and
ignoring it.
There is a significant change in my behavior lately when I
spend time with him. I consider his love languages to treat him well and I try
my best to appreciate the good things he does. But something is always missing.
Something between us, something unsaid, something unsolved. Yet it’s not that
it needs to be solved, but that it’s a wall he (or maybe we) chose to build. We
have this altered version of a friendship. It’s not quite normal, but it’s
something. When I can’t find words to say to him, I still mind my distance
physically out of respect. I’m aware of my own boundaries in our friendship,
but I can’t seem to figure his out. Even if I fear he’ll take my stiff behavior
to physical touch as a negative sign, or that I am uncomfortable, I know I’m
doing it to merely respect our level of friendship.
Despite what goes on in my head, it doesn’t take away from
the fact that I still listen to him. Despite everything I’ve stated above, I
have this curiosity. I think he can do great things, but the more he loses
faith in himself, the less I can see of him. I begin to sense that lack of
faith and I, too, fail to see him move onto something grand. He’s starting to
allow me to look away, as if he’s a book that I lost interest in. And even
though I don’t look away, even though I still stand there hoping he’ll climb a
mountain again and begin again, I lose so much energy along the way.
I begin to ask myself, “Why am I paying attention? What
reason do I have to invest this time in his life and give forth care? Why
haven’t I walked away?” It’s an easy path to take, the path that leads you away
from someone you know will challenge you. And that’s exactly what he does. He
challenges my ability to care, love, and listen. He challenges it because often
times he hides and for days or weeks I give up on trying and I stop hearing
from him. In those moments I wonder why I don’t say anything, but it’s not
until it’s done that it bothers me. It’s not his presence that hurts me, it’s
his absence; his silence. But I stick around, somehow, and then he comes back
around and expresses some sort of pain, confusion, or worry—and I care again.
I follow him purposefully at times to let him be the leader,
literally and metaphorically, and I observe. What I notice most is he almost
enters this world by himself. He ends up ahead of me without looking back to
make sure I’m nearby. But I still observe in hopes I’ll understand what got him
to where he’s at today. As I watch him walk ahead and alone, I can’t help but
continue to believe he’s not used to followers—faithful followers, to be exact.
He’ll turn around and wait on me at times, but I can see that he still gets
lost in his own little world. And it’s not really his fault. There’s something
about him that has me believing that he has stopped trying. He has felt
different throughout his lifetime and he stopped trying to adapt to the people
around him. He may make his attempts, but when all of it seems to go downhill,
he ends up slumped and in disbelief. It’s like he believes that he will never
be good enough at the things he unintentionally stopped trying to be good at.
To continue with this observation, I hear him say words that
explain how he doesn’t get close to anyone anymore and his reasons for not
getting attached. This is a repetitive thing I’ve heard from him, and I never
know what to say in return. I feel the pain, in a sense, and I can empathize
because I felt that way quite strongly at one point in my own life. As happy as
I am to say I see it vanishing for myself, I am unsure of how he can overcome
it. It’s his battle, but I listen because I only wish I could turn it all
around for him. I see how he’s not close with many people and I see how distant
he can become. Often times it’s the only reason I stay strong to stick around
in his life—not just because I don’t want to obliterate a friendship, but
because I don’t want to be that type of person in his life.
I guess my favorite part about his existence in my life is
how many God-moments that happen, either with me, or with him. I like the fact
that God can be present, that God can be mentioned, and that God can be
important. I like that he can recognize an unexplainable moment and proceed to
give credit to the living God. When there’s a lack of laughter and lack of
God-talks, it’s like there’s a lack of life between us. It was so much easier
to be civil with him toward the beginning of our friendship. Our talks were
deep, they were organized, and they were rare yet exciting. But in the midst of
all those life-changing, God-soaked moments in my life, there he was.
He was there when I needed a change, and he stood right
between my old life and current life. He was there when I questioned what God
wanted to do with me, and he was there when I lost my dad. He was there when I
had fears run so deep that I broke, and he was there when it was over. He
wasn’t always present, but at the end of each of these little and big races in
life, he was at the finish line. I can sit and ponder, never sure whether to
run from him or just keep him there. But then God shows up and stops me from
running.
The months continue to pass as I continue to observe,
listen, and encourage this particular young man. I feel like I’m supposed to
help him, yet I’m aware that his life and success isn’t my responsibility. But
I always wish I will have the right words to say when he’s in distress. Then
again, I guess I’m like that with many people who express depressed behavior,
or something of the sort. I have this dire need to be a helper, to be needed,
and to be useful in people’s lives.
As much as it scares me to know him this well, to get this
close, I know I can’t go back in time and un-meet him. There’s a huge part of
me that is thankful to have come across his world though. It has changed me in
unexplainable ways and I can see that I gave him a real friend. Yet now I see
this lack of joy inside of him and I know very well that he is in dire need of
a greater happiness. He is losing motivation, losing faith, and losing the
energy to dream and imagine a more adventurous life. He pushes away from me,
and then pulls me down; he lifts me up and nudges me forward. He’s a little
reminder every time I see him that even the tiniest decisions in life can
change your entire world. My choosing to meet him in person for the first time
on January 4th, 2013 marked such a significant time in my life. And
then two years and two months later, I see him in such a similar place I once
was in.
The overly-excited man who often disappeared for weeks from
my life becomes a broken soul who has hardly anyone to turn to except me. He
too often realizes how people in his life vanish and the comings-and-goings
only bring him down. I see that I’m still held at arm’s length and I see that
he still values me, but I very well know that he can easily detach himself out
of fear. Although I have no desire to vanish, I still fear myself that someday
we won’t hold on and I’ll look back and he won’t be around anymore. I guess it’s
okay, we’ve made no real promises to hold on, but I know my heart will always
save a place for him to dwell.
Only he can decide where he’ll go, who he’ll keep, and what
he’ll do. I guess I’m just sitting on the sidelines hoping he makes the right
decisions. I can’t say I know how long he’ll keep me around, or how long I’ll
be able to invest time in his (granted he responds). But I do know that the
answer will never be in giving up. Once a time ago I wanted to let him go, I
wanted to run away, and I quickly found out that it would never be the right
answer. After learning that lesson, I realized that God isn’t a God who teaches
his children how to escape problems. He’s a God who helps us face problems, fix
problems, and make things right. But most importantly, He’s a God who teaches
us how to love everyone at any moment—no matter what.
So I guess with all that I’ve learned from who he is and what
effect he’s had in my life, I can only conclude to say that I know God is the
very reason I even know this particular individual. In the oddest way possible,
I see that God let our worlds collide because we each had something challenging
to offer. He was placed at such a huge turning point of my life, like he was
some sort of intro to the next chapter. I’ve learned so much because of him,
and I’ve seen so much more out of God throughout it all. And whether he stays
or leaves, I trust that God will let him fulfill his purpose nonetheless and
that I can still be thankful he came along.
Here’s to hoping he finds his place and that maybe I can
witness the beginning of his next chapter.
