Thursday

Another day that’s been staring me down since I flipped to this month.

Yet another scribbled note staring at me boldly against the white background.

Only this time there is no 24 hour waiting period before I can flip to a new page.

I am stuck staring at this reminder for 20 more days.

Last year, we were on our way out of town. Little did I know I would be spending it in pain and as a babysitter to someone incapable of knowing her limit.

I silently swore I would never go on another trip with you again. I guess I kept my promise.

This year, I am in an internal game of tug of war.

We haven’t spoken in awhile. I told you that I needed to take a step back from this friendship.

I didn’t tell you that it was because you were mentally draining me. I have one child already, I didn’t need a grown one in addition.

In return, you called me selfish because I knew how much this friendship meant to you for me to just throw it away.

Which further proves my point of why I had to step back. Anytime you hear something you don’t like — you immediately become the victim. I could have, and should have just ghosted you. Not said a word. Made you come up with a 100 reasons for why it happened.

But no, I bit the bullet and told you as an adult. And as one expected you reacted in a childlike manner that truly makes me question if there’s any salvaging this friendship.

But the other part of me can’t ignore the fact that it’s your birthday. And there’s this little voice whispering in the depths of my conscience to say something.

Yet, there’s a bigger part of me saying it’s going to give you false hope that I’m ready to salvage this friendship. Because I am not.

It saddens me to say that aloud to someone other than my husband. But as I allow these words to flow freely without any censorship — I realize that the past few weeks, I’ve been happy and peaceful.

I didn’t have to worry about what problems you were going to come to me with. I didn’t have to find an excuse to not hang out. I didn’t have to keep my phone glued to my hand because you get upset if I take too long to respond.

And it was absolutely fucking amazing! And I don’t feel sorry at all.

I’m sure as someone reads this, I’m probably coming off bitter or petty. Or that it’s blatantly obvious that there is no hope for us. But there’s that little voice whispering in my conscience again — that maybe just maybe I can be the bigger person, like always; and bite another bullet, like always — and make amends.

Seriously — why has this been so hard??

Maybe it really is a sign that I/we need to make amends.

But there’s a part of me that just feels like things will go back to exactly how they were. You being immature. Me being the babysitter. And I don’t want that, ever again.

As I read over this, my answer is so abundantly clear, and yet so hard to actually accept. So I will sleep on it, and perhaps wake up with a fresh perspective. After all I have 23 hours to make a decision before it’s Void…