Nothing Can Bring You Peace But Yourself


"Nothing can bring you peace but yourself." I am thinking about the time when my best

friend died, and when I stopped being myself and my life started going to hell.

It happened maybe two or three years ago. The day is very clear in my memory. The

weather was cold and nasty. The monotonous rain made everything outside look gray. I

was at home, waiting for my girlfriend to arrive. I was sitting on the couch drinking hot tea

and feeling warm and cozy. My dog was there too, I remember. We were watching a talk

show, but I was not paying much attention to what was going on. All I cared about was my

girlfriend was coming home and that we would be able to see each other again. She had left

only four weeks earlier, but I had already missed her greatly. We had been friends since the

9th grade. In the beginning we were enemies; we hated each other. Oh, how we fought!

One time she accused me of taking her purse, knowing what a notorious prankster I was, even

though I had no idea what she was talking about. Later she found her purse in her friends

locker. It seems she had forgotten she had put it there. This turned out to be the first, but

not the last, accident that would occur. What didn\'t we argue about? After about, four

years, we became the best friends ever. We were perfectly compatible with each other. We

began spending all our time together. We were vital to each other. I came to know each

and every detail about her life as she did about mine. It was the most enduring friendship of

my life.

I looked at the clock above my head. Six fifty. She was supposed to arrive at five o\'clock.
I felt uncomfortable, some weird feeling crawled around my heart. I did not understand it.

I waited and waited. It was dark already and I was afraid of being in solitude. I couldn\'t

stand it anymore. Seven o’clock.

The phone rang and it startled me. Who might it be? I wasn\'t expecting a phone call from

anyone. I got up from the couch and picked up the phone. "Who is this" said the voice

flatly. I answered him and asked how I could help him. I didn\'t know anything yet, but my

spine felt cold and I had an irrational feeling of fear. "I am Detective James," said the man,
"and I have to tell you that...". He told me she was dead. A car wreck. He wanted me to

come to the hospital. Her family had died too.

I hung up the phone and felt immobile. His words were like a cold shower, a crash,

whatever you want to call it, but as I felt, it was the end, that line which separates life and

death and I stepped over it. My memories and feelings were erased and my life was

amorphous. I no longer cared about anything and nobody- friends, family, or strangers -

could help me. I mechanically did whatever they wanted me to do, but I was immune to

their advise and nothing could illuminate my life. I thought my life was over, that it was

empty. I would never see her again, and we would never hear each other\'s laughter again.

She died and part of me died with her.

Life went on lifelessly. Nothing was important to me. After awhile I felt that I wanted

someone to help me, to pull me out of my hole. But it was hard to admit, nobody could. I

couldn\'t find peace within myself. At some point I felt like standing up and screaming

"HELP." Some people tried to help me, but they could not. I don\'t think they understood

what I needed. Time went on and life did too. I didn\'t find any mortal to help me, but I

found a great supporter, a benefactor in myself. I didn\'t have to go anywhere but within

myself. I didn\'t have to ask anyone but myself. This self helped me and brought me back to

earth, to the world with sun