Friendship Best by 5/2014

I saw a post on Tumblr today that said something like, “Do you ever think about how some friendships have an expiration date?”. I’d never really thought about it before, but it applies to a relationship I’ve been grappling with for a little less than a year. For me, as I like to think for most, friendships have faded in and out of fashion and convenience and distances between. I’ve reconnected with a few I don’t normally speak to in the same way I’ve drifted from those I used to see everyday. But I’ve always had an addictive personality. I’ll latch onto anything if I’m certain it won’t leave me, and, well…perhaps the going away is exactly what we both need. This friendship is killing me to let go. It hurts every single day. And part of me feels like this is how emotional attachments will always end for me–in having to let go. For this is not the first time I’ve had to do just that. But this time, I think it might be for both our sanity.

It pains me to think this friendship has an expiration date. But over the last year it’s left the taste of spoiled milk in my mouth. I become someone awful in trying to keep this person with me here. And in turn, the person I thought was my best friend launches themselves at whoever will give them attention in my place, to save them from feeling smothered. When have I ever been the kind of person to smother anyone? I don’t know. It’s a horrible feeling. We never wanted to be the kind of friend the other regretted having, and yet somehow we’ve become that toxic friend exactly to each other. A fear in me forms like cancer in my blood every time I try to cut them out of my life, however–for when will anyone else ever understand me as well as they do, tell me things like, “I’ll always be here,” or “you’re my anchor”? The hardest part is accepting the fact that these words, while they may have been sincere at the time…are merely words. I am a writer–words flow freely from me when I let them. I should know that not all of them signify absolute truths. I expected too much of this person’s words, wrapping them around me like a comforting blanket. But this person is exactly what I’ve written here: a person. They cannot make metaphorical mountains into tangible ones to move for me. They cannot stay with me through all my bouts of feeling, hovering quietly until I need them so I can rest assured they’re always there. In the same respect, I cannot let myself be someone’s friend on their terms, when it is convenient for them.

Nothing has hurt like this in some time. My mind cannot adjust itself to the loneliness and regret in which we both placed me. But if I do this right, I will be okay again for the first time in a year. That’s a feeling I miss.

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