-
ad infinitum
I think about her all the time. I wonder where she is and how her kids are doing and if her dog still snores. But if I saw her stepping down a grocery store aisle towards me, I would turn and walk away.
I still laugh to myself at our inside jokes and I think about her every time I put on that particular sweater and somewhere in my house there are pictures of her still framed. And if she called me tomorrow, there’s not one single chance that I would pick up the phone.
I think about her when I light fall candles or when I make really good pasta or when I drink a strong vodka and sprite. I think about her when the leaves turn orange and red and sometimes I can still hear her voice in my head. Sometimes I run into our mutual acquaintances and I don’t ask about her because
I just don’t want to know her anymore.
I want her to be happy and I want her to have all of the wins. I want her to get out of bed in the morning and feel the sunlight on her cheeks and I want the coffee she drinks to be not-too-hot, but she isn’t on my Christmas card list anymore. She is just not invited anymore and we are not even old friends.
Sometimes a crack turns into a sever and a sever turns into an amputation and -
Even though phantom pains still haunt my insides, I’m still glad that she was excised.
Friendships are funny I guess. We’re all adults and we’re all out here trying our best and we’re all failing sometimes. And I guess that means we’re failing each other sometimes, too. I think we don’t mean to … no. I think we really do mean well, but sometimes people become collateral damage and that’s really just a fancy phrase for,
“I’m sorry I somehow lost you while I was triaging my own self worth.”
I think it must be okay to say that I miss them sometimes, but no -
that doesn’t mean I want to know them anymore. I think it must be okay to say that I miss them sometimes, but this new version of me - this version that’s a little more whole and a lot more strong and a tiny bit lighter - well,
she doesn’t have room for friends that carry words for weapons pointed at the backs of others.
This new version of me
simply turned the corner
and walked the other way.
And it was all okay.
Shared with permission from Rebecca Cooper, Author
I still laugh to myself at our inside jokes and I think about her every time I put on that particular sweater and somewhere in my house there are pictures of her still framed. And if she called me tomorrow, there’s not one single chance that I would pick up the phone.
I think about her when I light fall candles or when I make really good pasta or when I drink a strong vodka and sprite. I think about her when the leaves turn orange and red and sometimes I can still hear her voice in my head. Sometimes I run into our mutual acquaintances and I don’t ask about her because
I just don’t want to know her anymore.
I want her to be happy and I want her to have all of the wins. I want her to get out of bed in the morning and feel the sunlight on her cheeks and I want the coffee she drinks to be not-too-hot, but she isn’t on my Christmas card list anymore. She is just not invited anymore and we are not even old friends.
Sometimes a crack turns into a sever and a sever turns into an amputation and -
Even though phantom pains still haunt my insides, I’m still glad that she was excised.
Friendships are funny I guess. We’re all adults and we’re all out here trying our best and we’re all failing sometimes. And I guess that means we’re failing each other sometimes, too. I think we don’t mean to … no. I think we really do mean well, but sometimes people become collateral damage and that’s really just a fancy phrase for,
“I’m sorry I somehow lost you while I was triaging my own self worth.”
I think it must be okay to say that I miss them sometimes, but no -
that doesn’t mean I want to know them anymore. I think it must be okay to say that I miss them sometimes, but this new version of me - this version that’s a little more whole and a lot more strong and a tiny bit lighter - well,
she doesn’t have room for friends that carry words for weapons pointed at the backs of others.
This new version of me
simply turned the corner
and walked the other way.
And it was all okay.
Shared with permission from Rebecca Cooper, Author
irritated
apathetic
indifferent