there's an email in my inbox from jim, one of evan's close friends. you know, the one he took along to our supposedly "romantic" days alone at the sapphire coast, before his family joined us for the holidays.

jim writes:

how is everything with you? i understand from evan that all is going along pretty well but would be great to hear from you anyway.

i doubt this is a ploy to make me confess stuff to jim or get an inside view - if evan wanted that, he could simply ask me, or, if he wanted to be secretive, search for the blog, which he hasn't done. he never looked at it in the 2 years since i've had it. why would he now?

this little sentence actually makes me believe evan has not told jim anything about our recent troubles.

he's always been closed up to the people he calls his "friends", to his family, to everyone. always out to preserve the image of the perfect being he thinks they want him to be.

it's quite sad: jim's a good one, a reliable friend, he could give good advice and set stuff into perspective. - far better than anyone of his new friends could (not that i think evan has been discussing stuff with them), not just because he knows me, and knows me quite well.
i'm sad for evan, that he's so lonely, and makes himself so lonely, and does not go out to get support from people who would care.
while i can relate to his keeping things to himself (i'm not the most open person ever either, and i, too, keep stuff to myself sometimes, or from certain friends) i've realised in recent years that it's patently unhealthy for me to do so.

friendships work this way. they work through actual interaction, through opening yourself up, through making yourself vulnerable and being accepted nonetheless, - not just through watching the footie together and going to the same hospital for 5 years in a row.

so what shall i reply to jim?

i feel quite like telling like it is (with some exceptions, obviously), because he's a friend of mine as well.
why would i want to keep up evan's silly pretense for him?