Dear we’ve grown apart

and I’m not sure it’s the worst thing. 

Distance. Distance due to the different choices we’ve made over the last three years— and the fact that I don’t respect some of yours.

We both love a bit of drama —the foundation of our friendship — and live in a way that we often find ourselves at the center of it. But, I like to think mine have no meaningful ill effect — a make out here, dating someone slightly inappropriate there. Yours are a different story altogether, though.

A concerning story.

It is hard to be your friend when you purposefully ignore the danger signs. When those around you can’t say what they truly believe, because you cut them out of your life.

You bury your head in the sand. The worry is that it is quick sand, and you’ll never re-emerge.

This is why we’re no longer best friends. Why we didn’t seen eachother in half a year. Why when we finally did, there wasn’t that much to say.

When — or rather if — you emerge from the blackhole that is your insecurity (and your reliance on others to prove your worth), I will be there. But, I’m not optimistic that will happen.

You need to surround yourself with people who build you up, rather than those that bring you down. But, that doesn’t include me anymore. There was already a figurative ocean between us. Now, it will be there literally as well.

To be honest, I’m not sure it matters that much. I’m not sure we changed the tide of the other’s life. Rather we were just petals swept away in the other’s current.

A bit sad, perhaps, but not the worst.