May 2, 2008

She called me her best friend

One of the things that were salvaged from the fire was a card from someone in my past (she will remain nameless for purposes of this post). She called me her best friend.

But she wasn't my best friend.

Come to think of it, it's better that way. At least in her mind, at that time, I was the best friend she had. Perhaps it doesn't matter if she wasn't a good friend to me. She had her own ulterior motives for befriending me, motives that were revealed over time. Other people warned me about her, but I was young. I gave people the benefit of the doubt. I still do, but now I know that if it looks like a duck, sounds like a duck, and walks like a duck, it's a duck.

Our friendship was a learning experience for me in more ways than one. After her, I refined what my idea of a good friend was. What's more, you don't use someone and tell everyone else what you're using them for. Of course it's bound to reach the person.

Anyway, it was interesting that the card survived. Some lessons survive after all.