Comrades in Deep Shit

I had a friend over. 

We sat there swinging on the swing in my balcony; her smelling a little like the cigarette she must have smoked before coming in to see me. Me smelling like someone who had done nothing but lie on her bed reading all day. It was a hot day. I wouldn't have liked the way I smelled if I was her. The smell of failure. 

She knew I had a lot on my plate and yet she couldn't stop talking about her problems. I didn't mind, of course. I was more than happy to get my mind off the troubles that were bursting from the seams of a sorry life that I was unfortunate to call mine. 

We talked everyday. But you don't really talk well over the phone or in texts or in memes, for that matter. You have to see their faces, see how their shoulders slumped or their eyes lit to really know. It's quite easy to dodge questions when you're not face to face. 

And yet, there I was dancing away from talking about the storm brewing in my life whilst listening intently to her prattling away about her predicament. This is how easy it is sometimes because people only see their problems as the centerpiece of their lives and why shouldn't they? They don't have to actually live our lives so our problems are just something they can talk about when they are free from theirs. 

Some people can take on bigger breakdowns than they seem capable of while some are undone by smaller shakeups. These small mishaps are the ones that get the bigger publicity. The bigger ones we keep to ourselves. Because who wants to admit failure really? Who wants to advertise that they have been defeated. These need to be dealt with utmost secrecy so that they can be swept under the carpet as soon as possible. We may hint of the trouble within but never give up the gory details. But always, always, "my trouble is bigger than yours because at the end of the day, no matter how much I sympathize with you, I am not obliged to solve your problem but mine will wait for me patiently to attend to it."

I listened to my friend nonetheless. I cannot offer solutions and perhaps, solution isn't what she's after. Just a nod of the head, a word of acknowledgement. I will deal with my problems and she will deal with hers. But in the meantime we swing together and be comrades in deep shit.