Tu ne commettras pas de meurtre.
Tu ne commettras pas de meurtre.

We shared the same path for a wonderful while, sang the same songs and danced frantically in bacchic ellipses. We entertained the same ideals, not always, just often enough. Not anymore, though.

So often you carried my burden as I carried yours, and with that we made each other weightless. At least for short, unforgettable moments. We held each other’s hands in need, patted our backs and pushed each other forward when the way seemed too cumbersome to continue. Not anymore, though.

When you were there, life was good. Not so today.

We convene on this day to mourn the death of our friendship. It has ceased to exist, not by accident but because I murdered it.Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.I wish I could say that it was not my fault, that it were my fears and not myself that pulled the strings that day. What are my fears though, if not part of myself? Who am I, if I cannot take responsibility for my demons? I have failed, both, you and our friendship.

So live then well. And when one day you think back, then remember our friendship as it was in life and not how it died.