I used to have a friend. She was the most important friend in the whole world. I thought we’d never not be friends. Today I talked to her for the first time in nearly a year, and we had little to say to each other.
Silences filled the void instead of words after the pleasantries were offered, and it made me feel quite sad because this is something I’ve felt happening over years, and I’ve been quite powerless to stop it.
I’ve not wanted to believe it; not wanted it to happen. I’ve tried to keep in contact, but with each passing month it seems our lives are just so different that it’s hard to preserve the strands which binds us.
I do owe her much. There’s a sense of gratitude which is deep and wide and tall. I wasn’t the best person when I dropped into her life. I was angry and aloof and suspicious. My parents had just moved me from one country to another because I had been bullied. Instead of giving up on me, she was patient.
She gave the arsehole that I was a chance, and I think that made me a lot better person in the end. A person that didn’t suspect everyone. A person that wasn’t boiling with rage all the time. A person that wasn’t afraid all the time.
And now it’s over, and it feels very sad.