Days passed and the fluid conversation proved he wasn’t bored of me yet, shocking!
Blossoming young love, what is more beautiful and idealistic?
The next social event was one of my best friend’s birthday, Mel. I had begged for Charlie to be invited so I could spend the evening with him, and being a good friend she invited him. Charlie and I don’t exactly run in circles, it’s not like Mean girls or anything but our friendship groups, although familiar with each other, are very different. His friends are what I like to call the ‘waste of space’ boys. So Intelligent, some of the smartest people you will ever meet, every single one oozes charisma but narcotics are their favourite bonding activity. And that’s not a problem, if you can handle it, but I don’t think any of them have ‘fun’ and a balance with everything else in their lives. It’s all they do, and without sounding judgmental or bitchy, it’s sad! Yes, in a lame way, but equally in the way that all I see is potential being wasted for days and nights of feeling ‘free’! Anyway, continuing with Mel’s party. We spent the evening mingling, looking at each other, flirting and mingling in that order until we made it out. Classic night out, music and drinking and at the end of evening Charlie pulled me aside and told me that he had something he wanted to share, “he suffered with depression”.
Now this came as no shock to me because a few days before my best friend at the time, Gertrude, had told me that Charlie suffered with depression. Not out of the love of her heart, but because she didn’t approve of the fact we were becoming a thing and she still had feelings for him. Yes, they had had a thing actually more than a thing, he lost his V to her. And technically girl code does state that if you’re about to start something with your friend’s ex you should tell them first, but we weren’t even that close at the time. Plus, they were never really official and honestly I didn’t really care what she had to say. She’s manipulative, and this doesn’t make me a bad girl-friend, I just knew she’d have nothing good to say; and I didn’t want her to rain on my very fun and loving parade, which she did. However, being an open-minded person the D-word didn’t faze me. If anything, I loved the way he opened up to me, and I was touched by the fact he wanted to tell me something so personal; clearly he trusted me and maybe even wanted me to stick around for a while.
Don’t get me wrong, everything I have been through has been worth it and I would do it all again in a heartbeat if I got the chance, but something I have learnt is that you can’t change a person. As hard as you try, if they don’t change for themselves they won’t change at all; not in the long-term anyway.
His mental illness placed more strain or our relationship than anyone could imagine. The constant need for him to push me away because he didn’t think he deserved to be loved. The constant doubts and worries that he had about himself, and therefore us. So much of me wishes that I can take away his pain, that I can help him; but more often than sometimes Charlie didn’t let me. Whether due to ego or any other factor, Charlie became good a detaching himself from me when he got into his depressive states; and the harder I reached out to him, the more he pushed me away. And God knows the weed made it worse. I read books and blogs, watched videos, talked to councillors and even then I could never understand how to speak his language. His language makes hope fear, and distant the norm. His language translated my love into pressure so heavy that he often couldn’t carry. It makes him weaker, and as much as I wanted to save him all my attempts at helping got lost in translation. Tragic, right? But at this time all of this was unknown to me, and so I was consumed in the feeling of being trusted and wanted.