A Friend, In Sadness
A Short Story By Birithivy Yogaratnam
![](https://res.cloudinary.com/jerrick/image/upload/d_642250b563292b35f27461a7.png,f_jpg,fl_progressive,q_auto,w_1024/63eabe45ba5600001d5798e2.jpg)
If walls could talk, it could, in this case, tell the sadness and sorrow I feel when I see my best friend. They don't know I'm their friend, but if I could talk, I know we would be the best of friends. I've seen my friend for what feels like years now. They would be hunched in the corner, near me, trembling in fear. Sometimes because of the cold. Sometimes, because they have no one to love them. But I am right here! Right here to help wipe those tears they shed. I'm here, hoping that one day, I have the ability to yell and scream my friendship to them, hoping they will finally hear words of love, rather than the empty silence of the room they live in.
They came to this place randomly, on one windy and rainy day. They looked a lot better than they did now. They were jumping for joy, barking and running in circles in the room. It was a long time since I've seen any sort of energy here in this place. Last time I saw anything was when there used to be people living here. It was a small family, and they would eat their food in the room I'm in. My wall was covered in photos and memories of warmer and happier times. But then, all of a sudden, they left. Without a notice, without a word. Its been years since I've seen anyone take care of this place. I've slowly seen it deteriorate around me. But now, I have a friend. It was this dog, that looked so happy when I first saw them, but now looked depressed. They now looked like their whole soul and meaning of life was gone.
Someone must have left them here, never thinking of coming back. And I would watch, as this dog would stare out, hoping to see someone, anyone, come and rescue it. I felt like I was breaking down before this, but this dog gave me a purpose to feel again. It gave me this sense of meaning. Before, I didn't care if I was broken to shreds, to rid me of my misery. Now, I wish to live long, live to a point where there would be something that can give me the ability to move and go towards this dog, and reassure it that its not alone. But I can't. And that makes me sad, even through the joy of seeing my friend.
Like every other night, the dog would stand at the corner, looking out. It used to whine and howl. But now, it seems like the tired soul of this dog didn't have the energy or the will power to do this. How that hurts: to feel like no one can hear your voice. How painful is that? I should know. I watch as the dog looked out, did its routine of circling around the room, and then coming to a full stop in front of me, and falling to the ground to sleep. Why am I tormented with this predicament? This sorry state of not being able to help my friend in need? A friend who I see and hangout with everyday, yet, am like a ghostly figure in its life! How horrible and destructive this is. As the dog closed its eyes, I looked down at the dog with a sense of sadness. No one came back for me, and that made me sad all the time. But as long as I'm here, I will never not be your friend. Through thick and thin, through the many seasons and many nights, I'll be there. As a shoulder to cry on, a wall to lean on. Even without a voice, I'm there. If walls could talk, maybe my friend wouldn't feel as lonely as he does right now.
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Comments (1)
This is beautiful