Betrayal

It doesn't matter how many times it happens, the blow from a friend's betrayal never gets softer. You expect betrayals in life; people are like that. To a certain degree, you expect them in love, just because the instinct of sexual desire is so powerful that it can never be discounted. But the betrayal of a friend is different. It is never something that wasnt intended to hurt us, never really forgivable. The first was Devon. After spending my entire life never living in any city more than three years, Devon was the only friend to stick with me even after I moved away, from childhood through adulthood; for sixteen years I had called him my best friend. I wont go into what he did, but it was a blow that took years to get past. He has since tried to be friends again. I still talk to him, but he'll never again be my friend, with all of the things that word means to me.
This time it was Kirk. Someone I invited into my home, who quickly became friends with all my friends, whom I would have done anything to help out. There's even a picture of him in my photoblog on the side there, in the blue cowboy hat. When he lost his job, we gave him a free place to stay until he had the money to live on his own. Then he suddenly disappeared without a word, all his things with him, and no one having an idea where he'd gone. The next morning I went to my drawer for the $1,700 cash I'd saved up to fix my car. It was gone. I didn't really hide it; I would have never guessed I'd need to. I'm told he was last seen that night leaving town with a brand new pair of Chanel sunglasses on. I just wish I could have been robbed on the street, or lost it, or anything where I could hate the person who took it. I wish I didn't have to mark down another betrayal on the scoreboard. It breaks my heart.