I began to understand ‘letting go’ as a great act of friendship.
I understood that with all the laughter and sorrow behind us, a sort of, unbreachable chasm was opening below us.
I chose one way, to get through, and you chose yours.
Suddenly, things that had bound us seemed less glue-like.
I was resentful of who you were becoming.
I thought letting another friend go would mean something about my soul.
My worth – perpetually hanging by the vagaries of someone else, where I put it.
And you were there for me.
I don’t laugh at the same jokes as you anymore,
I don’t feel like I can trust you with my thoughts anymore,
Maybe, because, I know that something shifted.
I can’t pinpoint when, but I know I withdrew first.
That creeping sense of ‘offness’ began to permeate our brief texts.
I told you to stop telling me everything, I think you knew, that to someone like me, it was becoming a burden.
I was spending my time learning how to be me, to not hang my worth round someone else’s neck (and choke them with it.)
If I’m being honest, I don’t think you were. Though we talked about it, extensively.
I might be wrong, and maybe I’ll regret writing this. But there it is.
I still have my own tiring loops, insecurities that have rested on my shoulders for such a long time.
But I – I realised that letting you go, could be a great act of friendship.
To not hang around waiting for the me and you of 5-years ago to appear.
Waiting for the me and you that is not real anymore, is just detroying what is left.
A great friend, deserves the great respect, of knowing when it is time to let go.