Confessions of a cancelled friend

My head is in kind of a mess. However, I am still in control, and my head is also a safe space. I mean it is okay that it can be a mess at times. I guess this is why we pick up a journal and a pen, or a phone, in this case. To project what I feel into words so I can attempt to reorganise this intangible space called my mind. I’ll get to it.

Lately, I have been feeling this void. It almost embarrasses me to admit this but I have a friend who ‘cancelled’ me. I have tried to reach out to apologise-nothing. I have tried to reach out and pretend like nothing has happened-still nothing. I literally had to have someone tell me to ‘take a hint’ to accept what was going on, to accept being ‘cancelled’.

But am I this despicable of a person? Was I this worthless?

There are plenty of Instagram mantras that are going around saying “normalise finding your peace, let go of certain energies, let go of certain people”. Have I been let go? Have I been the negative energy all along?

So many questions.. but not one answered.

And then I relate this feeling back to my teenage years, the first real heartbreak, the time when my parents decided they did not want to be there for each other anymore, and then there was also the time I was sure I was ending up to marry this guy but instead we parted ways. All those feelings, the rejection felt all too familiar. This was it all over again, getting rejected.

I feel lonely about this sometimes, I really do. Who do I talk to about the works of Dostoevsky, or about the teachings of the Stoics? Or who will fill me in about the Peruvian civilisation or about the Cold War? Or the infinite possibilities there are when you look at the night sky? I feel lonely because these were conversations that ignited so much of what I was interested in before I actually knew I was interested in any of it. I found so much of myself in those conversations and yet now these are the conversations that are never had.

I can’t help but wonder if it will all come back- the conversations, the connection. But how? The logistics of it happening seem all too awkward. It’s hopeless, maybe I should just admit this to myself.



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Ria Monica Aseniero

Ria Monica Aseniero

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