We call that person who has lost his father, an orphan; and a widower that man who has lost his wife. But that man who has known the immense unhappiness of losing a friend, by what name do we call him? Here every language is silent and holds its peace in impotence.
A friendship that I once held dear has been pushed aside and I’m feeling a bit used. Oh, all the “right words” have been said. You know… “I miss having fun with you,””you’re not the only friend that I’ve neglected,””Things have just been so busy,” blah blah blah. It’s all bullshit. Nothing is changing and nothing will. It hurts. More than it should. The posts of the past seem ridiculous in light of the present reality. It angers me that I all too often allow positive emotions to cloud my judgement, and I do it in willful ignorance. Had I listened to the concerns of those closest to me and indulged in a healthy dose of skepticism, maybe the emptiness I feel now would not be so deep, but then the lesson learned probably would not sink in as effectively.
When you realize that your friendship is not a priority for someone you wish it was, you face an interesting crossroads… either carry on as acquaintances or cut bait and move on. But does it matter what path you take? Don’t they both lead to nothing? I don’t know. All I know is that I deserve to be more important than that, damn it. I was foolish to make this person a priority when I should have been focusing on the people who really matter and have been with me through thick and thin.
There were things learned, and I definitely grew through this past year, so I should be grateful for that. But right now, it’s not so easy to focus on the positive. Right now, I don’t feel like giving my heart or kindness to anyone… no, that’s not true. There is already someone else upon whom I wish I could shower kindness. But that’s a certain road to ruin, and has been the unwavering pattern of emotional disaster all my life.
A couple of posts ago I confided that the worst advice I ever received was to stop being too nice. That doesn’t seem like such bad advice in this moment. And I am capable of hardening my heart, sadly enough. Sometimes, I’d like to be an asshole. Sometimes, I am.