"Not you, Brutus!" The famous last word of Julius Caesar before fatally succumbing to the multiple stab wounds perpetrated by his so-called "friends", chiefly the sly Cassius and the weak-willed Brutus.
My own experience of betrayal may not match the high level of emotional quotient of a Shakespearean tragic play but the repercussion is nonetheless similarly intense and the inner wound still hurts like hell. The last time I felt this way was when Jess dropped that inglorious bomb on me on that fateful Tuesday morning one-and-a-half years ago. Now my own private Brutus is a very good friend that I've known for almost half of my life, whom from heretofore will only be known as Mr. P.
What does a friendship truly means? What is the role of trust in a friendship? At what cost can a friendship be broken? Can a broken friendship be truly mended? These are the eternal philosophical questions grappled by major thinkers from the Hellenic times till now. Or so I thought.
Virtually everyone would agree on the paramount value of friends and friendship in their lives but how many would actually take the time to ponder what their friends and friendship really mean to them? Some have one best friend, while others have several or even more, but how certain are you of your friends' sincerity in sustaining the friendship? Has any of your friendships been put to the test i.e. your friends coming to your rescue with such reckless disregard for their own welfare when you're in dire straits? Even so, how sure are you that these selfless friends of yours would never turn their backs on you at any point in the future?
If the frequency and the degree of sacrifices by a friend are the parameters by which one uses to measure the true worth of a friendship, then I'm sad to say the formula is not entirely applicable to me. There were countless times throughout our friendship that Mr. P had performed selfless acts to help friends in need, particularly moi, and according to the aforementioned parameters, I should be able to trust my life on Mr. P. But why the sudden and drastic change? What compels him to sacrifice a long-standing friendship for such a paltry sum of money? What kind of Faustian deal is he making?
These are the questions I have been asking myself these past few weeks. The money issue is secondary; what matters most to me is trust. Even if he manages to pay me back to the very last penny, would that automatically restore the trust in the friendship? I have not the slightest doubt that the friendship will still stand albeit on a very shaky ground and in a very different light but without the trust factor to buttress it, the friendship might as well be a desolate rickety shack at the outer edge of the village that has long been forsaken but still refuses to bow to the forces of nature. It will stand against the test of time but will only remain as it is: a hollowed-out shell that is full of fleeting nostalgic memories but bereft of any real value and substance.
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