The questionable choice of bringing someone back into your life.
You could’ve at least said goodbye.
The first time we met was at our middle school orientation.
Our family moved a lot as a kid. We were a family of the federal government, which meant picking our asses up every 4 years to a place somehow colder and snowier than the next.
I still remember her that day, how shy she was. Her kind face that hid a deeply troubled person. And I think I’ve always attracted troubled people, because we ended up being friends for the next 12 years.
It’s weird to even use the word friends because we weren’t good at it. Besides a few coffee dates, we only hung out when we were around other people. It shouldn’t have surprised me that the moment she was able to get out, she set off without saying goodbye.
No phone call. Not even a text. She’d finally found her next best thing. And when she inevitably comes back, torn down from the bright city lights and busy streets, I’ll still probably take that coffee she’ll buy me. Because despite the fact that I allow people to come back into my life, that doesn’t mean I have to let them stay.
That doesn’t mean I don’t recognize their bullshit patterns.
The problem, for me, isn’t that people leave.
It’s that when they come back, I lean into forgetting and not forgiving. Instead of keeping a measured distance, a thoughtful space, a few feet of personal room to breathe, I lean in just a little too far. I so desperately want things to go back to normal.
Before the facade of who I wanted them to be faded away. Before one of us hurt the other and will inevitably think about it every time we see or talk to each other.
Grudges are unhealthy, I try to say to myself. I think that’s true.
But I guess I’m trying not to lay down on the train tracks anymore. I’m good at putting myself in a position to get hurt and then bitch about them hurting me, like I didn’t know exactly what as coming.
I’ve become too aware of how people operate. How our bullshit patterns and habits sabotage the world around us. I stay aware of my own, of course, but I stay aware of theirs too. Because soon enough you can get just a little too comfortable. Sit a little too pretty.
And then the train arrives.
Follow me here, sis ❤
