Friendships can end with time. It can end with distance and unspoken things, with the change of seasons and priorities, with happenings too much or too few to count. It can end with remembering too little or a little too much. It can end with at least one to be potent. It can end simply because it cannot be anything more. It can end.

If friendships end, I would not notice its final passing. It does not send a letter of its departure. I am only left only with a memory- it's weight I cannot measure. I am left with no assurance of its truthfulness or value. It leaves me insecure as to what step to take, doubt the road I tread, wonder under which constellation I must chart against. If you are lost, there is no difference between standing still and traveling at the speed of light.

The lie may be in believing the grief to be the truth in itself- that grief is the only truth. Its design was not to make it its own reality, but to be the midpoint of two. Two realities. Two choices. Life or Death.

...

"The bird a nest
the spider a web
the human friendship."

-William Blake