i once had a friend…

a friend who loved me.

I once had a friend.

She loved me, and I loved her.

My friend was very good to me.

And for a while, I was good to her too.

We’d talk about things.

We’d laugh about things.

She’d share things with me.

Sometimes, I’d share things with her too.

Things were good.

Things were really good with my friend.

We spent a lot of time with each other.

People even thought we were together.

But she was just my friend.

And I was happy with it.

We were happy with it.

But something happened.

Something changed-

It was a big deal and it was also insignificant at all once.

I’ll spare you the details because I do not want to share.

Just know that there was a shift in dynamic.

And my friend also did some things that hurt me.

Really hurt me.

I said I was fine, but I wasn’t.

I said I wasn’t angry, but I was.

I said I was over it, but a seed of resentment was sown in my heart.

A seed that would later grow into something terrible in the coming months.

I should’ve dealt with it immediately.

I should’ve said how I truly felt immediately.

Maybe- maybe ending the friendship would have been the best immediate option for both of us.

However, I did neither of those things.

Instead, we carried on.

We carried on like nothing ever happened.

For her, nothing had changed.

For me, unforgiveness simmered in my heart, day after day.

I tried to ignore it, to pay no mind to the ugly monster stirring in my chest.

I still talked with my friend.

I still laughed with my friend.

I still shared some things with my friend.

The good days were good, but the bad days?

They were terrible.

And the bad days became more and more frequent.

I became a ticking bomb of anger and resentment towards my friend.

Everything she said was a problem.

Everything she did was a problem.

Even if she didn’t do or say anything too problematic, I would find a problem to make out of it.

She was fighting a losing game that she had no idea she was playing.

I changed towards her; I know I did.

But when she’d bring it up, I’d deny it.

“What’s wrong?” “Nothing.”

“Are we good?” “Yes.”

“Did I do something wrong?” “No.”

But I was lying.

Something was wrong.

We weren’t good.

And she had done something.

I just couldn’t bring myself to admit what it was out loud to her because I hated that it happened in the first place.

Until I just had to.

I finally told her what she had done.

Of course, she understood me.

And she apologised.

She said she was sorry, and she explained things from her perspective.

We talked about it.

I said it was fine, I was past it, I was over it.

I thought I was.

I really wanted to be.

But you see, that’s the thing about resentment.

Once the seed is sown, it can lie idle for years.

Just waiting and waiting and waiting.

Waiting for the best chance for it to manifest itself in the most toxic ways.

I’m ashamed to admit it now, but-

I became a very bad friend to my friend.

As someone that prides himself on being “real”, I became everything but that.

I started treating her differently, albeit unintentionally.

And God, she stuck with me regardless.

Through the petty arguments.

Through the occasional cold shoulder and silent treatment.

Through the moments of extreme gaslighting.

She stayed as my friend.

And she loved me.

Yes, she had moments where she’d flare up in anger.

Or say something insensitive.

Or react out of pure human emotion.

But I know that it was all because she cared for me still.

And she just didn’t understand why I was acting the way I was.

Don’t get me wrong; I still cared about my friend.

Truly, I did.

And I really wanted to treat her the way I did before.

But that monster still sat in my chest, raging and raging.

Bitterness and anger held me back from loving her the way I wanted to.

It carried on like this for months; this ugly wound remained on our friendship, and it never stopped bleeding out.

Yet, we carried on.

We still talked everyday and we still spent time together.

But each moment became less enjoyable than the last.

The daily texts started to feel like a formality.

The conversations, sitting together, the walks- everything we did together felt like an obligation.

It felt we just had to do those things.

Because of the attachment that we now had to each other.

An attachment that was strong.

Very strong.

One that grew toxic with every misunderstanding or every back-and-forth we had.

No matter how bad things got, we just didn’t want to let each other go.

As bad as I treated her, I still wanted her in my life.

As bad as I treated her, she still wanted me in her life.

But of course, she had started to resent me too.

She hated how well I treated every other of my friends.

Everyone but her.

Some days, I was a glimpse of the old friend I was to my friend.

Most days, my friend couldn’t recognise the friend I had now become to her.

And still, we carried on.

We kept going.

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The good months came again.

The really good months.

By this time, I had truly healed.

I had completely let go of all the hurt she had caused me.

All of it.

All the jealousy, bitterness, and anger.

Everything was gone.

So I tried to be a better friend once again.

And I was.

The arguments reduced.

I stopped picking fights.

She stopped resenting me.

We started to find peace again.

But as they say- “Everything that starts has an end.”

Something happened again, and this time-

There was no coming back for us.

And this time, we both admitted that we were done.

Those old scars bore fresh wounds that would never heal together.

They needed healing on their own.

They needed space.

The truth is, our friendship was already done a long time ago.

A friend isn’t someone you fight with everyday.

A friend isn’t someone who hangs past mistakes over your head.

A friend isn’t someone who can’t be open with you, be patient with you, and be honest with you.

That’s not what a friend is.

Yet, I was that friend to her.

And for the longest time, my friend endured it.

She endured me.

Why? I really don’t know.

Maybe she remembered how I once was.

Maybe she felt that deep down I still cared about her.

Maybe she was thought she needed me in her life.

I don’t know.

But she stayed.

My friend stayed.

Until she didn’t.

I remember the night our friendship ended.

We were about to get into another fight for probably the billionth time.

Except this time, it wasn’t over something insignificant.

She had done something.

And I had done something in return.

And she was hurt.

We had hurt each other again, except this time, there was no coming back.

Going our separate ways was my idea.

I just never expected her to go along with it so willingly.

“Aren’t you tired?” My friend asked me. “We’ve had our moments, but clearly, this isn’t working.”

She was right and she was tired.

I was tired too.

We didn’t want each other any more.

We just felt like we needed to have each other.

And even that deep attachment we shared had begun to falter under the burden of unspoken words and resentful emotions.

My friend told me I’d driven her to tears on many nights.

My friend told me that she deserved better.

My friend told me that she wished me all the best.

I apologised to my friend for the way things had turned out.

My friend apologised to me for the way things had turned out.

That was it.

My friend moved on.

And I moved on from my friend.

Unfortunately, you can love someone, yet they won’t be right for you.

You might not be bad people, but you might be bad together.

And that’s just life.

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If there’s one thing I love about time, it’s that it always provides a new perspective.

It could be after days, or weeks, or months.

But in time, you will start to see certain things in a different light.

For the first few (days? weeks?), I was honestly glad that our friendship was over.

I’m very sure my friend felt the same.

If not more.

It was like this air of obligated toxicity was gone, and I could finally breathe again.

I carried on with my life.

Living and living.

Eventually though, I started to miss her.

After a while, I wanted to reach out, just to see how she was doing.

But I didn’t.

I respected the mutual agreement we had made.

Our friendship was over.

And that was it.

Days passed, and then weeks passed.

Her birthday passed too, but this time I made sure to wish her.

“Thank you. God bless you.❤️” was my friend‘s reply.

And that was that.

We went back to being the strangers we now were.

I wasn’t angry about it.

It’s how it had to be.

Our chapter was closed.

And we were going to leave it that way.

---

Something happened again.

But this time, it was all me.

I had a personal realisation that almost shook me to tears.

I came face to face with the ugly reality of the state of my heart.

I’d like to believe that it was God pointing a harsh mirror back to me.

For the first time, I fully grasped the extent of what I had done to another human being who cared about me.

So with blurry eyes; I swallowed my pride, I killed my ego, and I reached out to my friend again.

This time though, I was honest.

Completely honest.

I bared my soul with the kind of openness and empathy that she had yearned to see for many months.

I admitted my faults.

I embraced my errors.

I didn’t shift the blame again or manipulate the situation.

I didn’t try to invalidate her feelings or make her feel like she was overreacting.

Everything I typed that day was real.

I told my friend I was sorry.

I told my friend I didn’t deserve her.

I told my friend to take care of herself.

And after I did this, I felt peace.

A different kind of peace.

However, words can only do little when actions have already spoken louder.

19 days later, my friend finally replied to my messages.

“I’d have responded earlier, but I didn’t know what to say.”

I took no offence.

She could’ve ignored me forever and she would still not be at fault.

My friend apologised for the times she hurt me.

My friend said she’d never forget the good things I did for her.

My friend said she was grateful for our friendship.

But-

She also said she regretted ever opening her heart to me.

She said I had no idea how much I hurt her.

She said I had no right to treat her the way I did.

It broke my heart to read those words, but they were her truth.

Being the good-hearted person she is, my friend didn’t hold any grudges.

That was it.

We had finally found closure after a long, long time.

She was happy on her own, and I was happy on my own.

She had forgiven me too.

And that was enough for me.

---

I saw my friend yesterday.

My friend is still as beautiful as ever.

I’ve missed my friend so much.

My friend is doing okay.

My friend seems to be happy too.

I’m so happy for her.

Part of me had hoped that we’d sit to talk and catch up, maybe like old times.

But we didn’t.

She didn’t want to.

She said there was nothing else to say.

The truth is: My friend is no longer my friend.

Not the way she was before.

I never expected things to go back to the way they were.

Way too much time has passed, and way too many things have happened.

It’s kind of too late for us.

However, I still regret losing my friend.

I regret hurting someone who loved me deeply and genuinely.

The fact that she’s gone is just something I’ll have to live with.

I’m not torn about it.

This is life and it happens.

Although there’s no enmity between us, I believe that she has chosen to proceed in life without me.

I understand it.

I respect her for it.

And I’m fine with it.

---

To my friend-

You deserved better.

I didn’t do right by you.

So, once again, I am sorry.

We had something good, and a part of me will always regret ruining it.

I took you for granted and so I don’t deserve you anymore.

I was ignorant then, but I understand it now.

Take care. ❤️

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Life is just a bunch of shared experiences…

To the one who taught me love and loss

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