After knowing each other
for so many years,
only today did I realize
how different me and
my best friend really are.
Some days, I just can't help
but analyze our conversations
and notice we do have some
similar dreams, interests
and mutual wishes.
Then, I compare myself to her
and I seem to lose when it comes
to multiple stages of her life.
She's been a successful lawyer
for a long time, while I am still here
pursuying my childish dream
of becoming a well-known writer.
I remind myself I shouldn't be
so judgemental of everything I do,
but how couldn't I be?
Ever since I was eight, I've been
destroying everything good that
was ever mine or happened to me.
On the other hand, she's just
a beautiful and decisive girl.
The complete opposite of me.
They say that in our friends
we find what we can't be.
I believe that's true.
I admire her, I really do.
But some times, especially
at those cold nights that my mind
can't erase those painful memories
and I simply cannot convince myself
I will ever be good enough for someone,
then I get a little jealous of her.
I know it's not right because she is,
indeed, my best friend.
One big difference between us is that
she's married to someone she isn't in love with.
I'm not married to the man of my dreams,
but at least I have been in love
for the most part of my miserable life.
I once pittied her and thought she was
in need of a caring and loving man
to maker her strong and lead her.
But I was wrong, I was the one
breaking in pieces.
So I'm wondering who really is
the lucky one:
I, who have truly loved and lost
or she, who has no idea what love is
and hasn't experienced pain?
