Without Masha

Welcome to Azam’s literary scrapbook. While most photo albums consist of pictures, this scrapbook will be full of words. It’s not quite a diary, although in appearance it may read like one. Here remain calculated entries of memories, adolescent lessons and human experiences translated into literary meaning. There is no other place to begin such a series than with someone I know who has been there for it all. For me, she ties many loose threads together.

In life friends often come and go, this remains an undisputed and painful fact. I’ve known people only for a few weeks, until they walk away. In contrast, I still know some friends from elementary school, and we talk occasionally. Nevertheless, it is a different feeling when someone has been there most days to text you for consecutive years. 

Especially through adolescent years, when one is exponentially growing and changing. A quote by American writer Elbert Hubbard goes, "A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you." 

For the sake of her privacy, I will conceal her real name with the Russian nickname Masha. Not only is it more informal, but it feels closer to the feeling of, essentially, a sibling in mental harmony.

We have been friends for over four years, talking pretty consistently during that time. I would imagine that level of consistency might be rare to find, especially given growing up from turbulent ages of 16 to 20. Living in the same town, we had shared elementary and middle schools, yet we really didn’t know one another until 11th grade. 

I believe that I learned a large part of self compassion and forgiveness from her. There were times when I could not show myself any compassion, and perhaps she should not have either at times. Still she remained sympathetic within reason and believed in me when I did not, which was a mutual exchange, I must add. 

I introduced her to cross country and long distance running, and in turn, she introduced me to the glory of Trader Joe’s. Win-win. I introduced her to my friend, who became her boyfriend, and she later on introduced me to her friend, who later became one of my girlfriends. Lose-lose, that was a bad idea. Now we owe each other a lot of indirect benefits and consequences simply via the law of cause and effect.

She introduced me to my favorite Greek restaurant, and I introduced her to “A Quiet Place” which apparently, to her, is extremely terrifying. She carried a hand in saving my life once, as well as normalizing for me the concept of four passenger door vehicles that only have two side doors. I helped her realize why Stratton Brooke State Park is the worst cross country course known to man, as well as the fact that there is a distinct difference between Billy Joel and Bob Dylan.

I took her on a couple of dates when I first met her, and then she friendzoned me. In return, when I became best friends with her childhood best friend and her sister, I learned what it was like to really lose when friend groups inevitably split. I remember all four of us went to New York City one time, and we stumbled through Chinatown in the hot sun for an hour just to end up at this recommended restaurant named The Golden Unicorn. I will never forget this experience when I was dehydrated, and they kept giving me expensive hot tea in this giant penthouse. We now refer to this event as “The Nightmare At The Golden Unicorn.”

I’m not sure how the most toxic friendship could become the most mutually supportive platonic system, but I do know it boosts my faith in humanity that there are good people out there who are willing to work through problems.

Without Masha, I would really not understand the difference between a boys and girls sleepover; the difference between skincare and lights out at nine, versus passing out on the floor wherever and whenever without a toothbrush in sight. Without Masha, I probably wouldn’t have known as early as I did that the difference between the genders is damn near none in mind and spirit, at least as I see it. Minus sleepovers.

Without Masha, I wouldn’t have been exposed to orthodox church pastries and a camp volunteering experience that made my dad lose his favorite water bottle in Monroe. Without Masha, I definitely wouldn’t have grown to realize so early the value in learning about other cultures and peoples’ differences, even if they didn’t align with my perspective.  

Once you break down the assumptions and idealizations about someone that exists, you’re left with numerous flaws. We accept each other's flaws, and even if we occasionally misunderstand each other now, we always problem solve and rationalize. We hear each other out and work to fix the problem, as mature adults in my view must do. This system between us is strong because we have done it so many times before, and with much greater conflicts to the point where current obstacles appear minuscule in comparison. 

She never gave up on me, so I have never given up on her. No one is perfect, but we share mutual respect as we’ve seen each other evolve through mental centuries of fortified relations. She taught me that good things don’t come easy, and waiting for them can result in miracles, such as the fact that we are still friends. I’d like to think I taught her resilience as well through personal struggles of her own.

It feels validating and joyful to converse with someone regularly (even though I only see her in real life every month or so now) who knows everything about me. Many good friends can listen without judgement, but not all of them were there since the genesis of adolescence.

Though we’ve been out of high school for nearly three years, I could not thank her enough. Given how intertwined our adolescent lives have been, I could never explain my adult life story without mentioning her, and I am an important part of her story as well. With all the empathy she has shown me in times where I could find no light in the world, I am finally beginning to foster self compassion. She is one of the kindest and sweetest people I’ve ever met. 

The ironic part is I used to be in love with her, but I hope you believe me when I say that its irrelevance is so potent nowadays that it might as well exist in another lifetime. The fact that at one time it was deemed an impossibility to recover from that in itself shows the true healing qualities of time and determined human resilience. The heartbreak caused by setting each other up with mutual friends packed more of a lasting punch if I’m being honest.

Without Masha, I really wouldn’t have many people to converse with about European history, literature, and writing, or people from high school whom we forgot existed. Without Masha, I would not know where my life trajectory thus far would have gone, for better or for worse. 

Her application of logic to issues at hand, intellect, and kindness are things that continue to inspire me every day as a grounding force for humanity's goodness. I look into her eyes, and I am emboldened to know someone has known me so long without judgement or continuous drift.

Few things stay the same, especially at this age, but I am beyond grateful for her anchor of mutual support. It’s a constant that can be appreciated in an ever changing world.

We truly were so different nearly five years ago, and we had no clue of left from right. Adulthood came quickly and without warning. It’s here now, supposedly, but it doesn’t really feel like it. 

I truly believe that I have learned to treat others better, and in turn how to treat myself better, because of our long term mutual exchange of regular support and friendship. So here’s to the future!