For a while I've been feeling that my best friend is standing further away from me than she used to. I trust her with practically everything, and she doesn't. Naturally of course she doesn't inform me of tidbits concerning her partnership and intimate family life, but still...
She has had spells of illness which she has brushed aside as 'cold' or 'trouble with her ovaries' or 'had to do antibiotics'. In the past few weeks she was complaining of constant tiredness, saying she didn't scruple to tell me she wasn't feeling well and didn't want any visitors. Her grandma was recently taken to a home, so I attributed her exhaustion to the stress of coping with that and her work and everything. I tried to call her a couple of times, just to ask about how her grandma was doing and whether she was feeling better. No answer. No returned calls.
This morning I called her home, and her partner told me she's in hospital and didn't I know?
She has cancer.
Has had cancer for five years.
Never told me.
I know it's selfish of me to make it about me, she's the one who has cancer, she has every right to keep it to herself or tell those only whom she chooses but...
I'm awfully confused right now. I'm not her best friend? I'm not trustworthy? What is it?
I want to be there for her, but maybe I come on too strong?
Feels like I'm losing or have already lost my best friend.

Re-reading what I've just written it sure sounds like I'm what's the utmost in selfishness, all I I I, it's her who is ill after all...

I've been daydreaming over Jane Austen's happy endings again... The latest movie version of Persuasion has me dreamy-eyed and yearning for my own one all over again. Thing is, as soon as I take off the headphones and turn off the computer, reality moves back in. It's not like Louisa Musgroves are actually more stupid than I am, or that I'd be as deserving as Eliza Bennet of Mr Darcy's fervent love. Instead, I'm rather staid I suppose, lazy to a fault, terribly shy (now there's something that doesn't fit well with my job as a teacher :P ), and so old-fashioned that it's not even funny.
Still, can't help wondering if my life isn't just very slightly comparable to that of Anne Elliot in the sense that a woman at the age of 27 in Regency time would be somewhat an equivalent of a 40-year-old woman in the present day, especially in the meaning of waning looks and child-bearing qualities. In which case I'd be justified to dream of my own Captain Wentworth in the wee morning hours once in a while...?

Love hurts, love scars,
Love wounds, and mars,
Any heart, not tough,
Or strong, enough
To take a lot of pain,
Take a lot of pain
Love is like a cloud
Holds a lot of rain
Love hurts, ooh ooh love hurts

Im young, I know,
But even so
I know a thing, or two
I learned, from you
I really learned a lot,
Really learned a lot
Love is like a flame
It burns you when it's hot
Love hurts, ooh ooh love hurts

Some fools think of happiness
Blissfulness, togetherness
Some fools fool themselves I guess
They're not foolin me

I know it isn't true,
I know it isn't true
Love is just a lie,
Made to make you blue
Love hurts, ooh,ooh love hurts
Ooh,ooh love hurts

[guitar solo]

I know it isn't true,
I know it isn't true
Love is just a lie,
Made to make you blue
Love hurts, ooh ooh love hurts
Ooh ooh love hurts
Ooh ooh...

Ah yea, why Nazareth lyrics?
Because I'm feeling as pathetic as ever. At 40, getting fatter by the minute, and still having love on my mind? GET OVER IT ALREADY AND FACE THE FACTS! You aren't getting it again, you had your chance and you have the kids to show for it.
You know what is the most humiliating bit about it? Being exchanged for an OLDER version ffs. Only because she was so eager to bed him while her own husband was out of town.
Suicide is not an unfamiliar thought, that's for sure. And the first and foremost emotion holding me back was not love, it was overwhelming, crippling hatred. SHE will not get my children on top of my faithless partner. Shameful really, only living to hate... Thankfully the hate has turned into my despising them. I am managing with my life, kids are growing into lovely young people, I'm respected at my job. HE is hopping between jobs, creating debts, having huge disagreements with his love of his life, splitting up and getting back together.
You can't love a man whom you no longer respect. Although where does that leave me - choosing him to be the father of my children? Where's the keen eye I was so proud of?...

Pixelated love < REAL love? Are feelings pixelated? Oh it's just a game, don't confuse it with real life, get over it, grow up... Well, guess what, words still hurt, whether they are said out loud to your face or typed through an electronic medium.
Love doesn't make sense anyway. Bah humbug.
'You can't fall in love online, not in the real way. You can't know what the other person is really like, they might be lying through their teeth, projecting a certain image.' As if people weren't projecting images of themselves in reality, face to face.
You can still learn to know someone online given enough time - similar to what oldie detective novels (Agatha Christie's especially) claim about giving someone enough rope. Also, listening to people lie eventually gives you enough clues as to what has been left unsaid. And let's not forget that divorce rates all over the world are humungous, although marriages should have been the product of a REAL love and getting to know each other irl, thus precluding a chance of failure, as opposed to 'electronic love'.