20 Sep the end…
Begin at the beginning… and go on till you come to the end…” ~ Lewis Carroll
My best friend and I broke up last December.
Neither of us knew, when we woke up that morning, that would be the last day of our friendship.
But it was.
After 12 years. we were finished.
No more daily texts. no more phone calls. no more hugs hello. no more hugs goodbye. no more laughing over stupid shit. no more getting angry over mutual things. no more quick messages that read “hey! did you see the moon tonight?” no. more.
Later, looking back at the weeks and months preceding the end, I could recognise that we were in the final lap… but there’s that thing about 20/20 and hindsight. So even though I could clearly read the warning signs a few months after the fact… at the time, I had no real indication. Or rather, perhaps, there were indicators, but I ignored them. figured they’d work themselves out. and they did. just, not in the way I’d anticipated.
There was a time when this girl was heart-and-soul part of me. I’d drive days to see her. she’d fly. we spent countless hours talking, smoking cigarettes, drinking wine. she went to the ocean with me (though she was terrified of the water.) we got tattoos together. and Allsup’s burritos at 2am. we often spoke in incomplete sentences, knowing what the other was about to say, or finished the end of a sentence for each other. she knew by instinct when something was amiss with me. we knew how to break down each other’s walls when no one else could get close. we knew when to comfort each other, when to play the tough love card, when to sympathise, and when to call each other out. I loved her. she was family. she was my tribe. I don’t think we ever imagined anything would separate us.
and then something did.
At first I was angry. seethingly. fumingly. spittingly. angry.
After the first week or so, the anger fell away and settled into an odd, grayish haze that just felt kind of done. final.
I found myself noticing funny things and thinking how she’d laugh at it, and thought “oh, this is so something I would text her!” but no. we’re not friends. right.
I missed her in an abstract sense. but not in a broken sense. I felt oddly… okay. I found that I was more uncomfortable with the fact that I wasn’t sad… I thought I should feel worse; empty.
One night I deleted her from my social accounts.
A month or so later I deleted her phone number (though to be honest, hers is the only number I know from memory, so unless she changes it, I kinda always know it.)
Sometimes things are just over. Nothing can change the course. Nothing can alter the outcome.
She was my friend for 12 years. The first person I met when I came to Texas. I am glad for the friendship we had, for how much we loved each other for the time that we did. I’m thankful for 12 years.
But some things just aren’t meant to last forever. and that’s okay.