I Lost A Friend

We are an indignant species. We are a vain species. I can do no wrong, but neither can you. It is this sort of thinking that causes you trouble when your best friend breaks up with you.

The first thing that comes to mind is this: “how is it possible for a friend to break up with you? This is a break-up text? We weren’t even dating to begin with!” But you know it’s a break-up because you care enough to act like it is.

You get angry because you have to watch them go.

You get angry because you want things to be on your terms.

You get angry because you don’t deserve it.

You get angry, because you still have songs you wanted to share. You still have movies you wanted to watch. And you don’t want to do those things alone.

That’s the first stage. A nice, hard-to-chew mixture of anger and loneliness. The next is to begin doubting yourself.

What the hell did I do wrong?

Why did I let this happen?

Should I let it happen? Should I fight tooth and nail to win her back again? I’ve slain dragons before. I’ve conquered realms and defeated foes as major as giants and minor as a toothache. You could save this. Whatever it is. Whatever it was.

No. It’d be too melodramatic. It’s a bit Shakespearian as is. It always was. The happy moments were a sea of heightened bliss — though, looking back, that may have just been me. The sad moments were a torrential wave of misery. And the angry ones were a volcanic eruption; two armies clashing for victory over an issue that probably didn’t matter.

This is what I will miss most. Those feelings may have been over-the-top, as they tend to be when it comes to people my age. But they were there, wholesome and horrible and everything in between. It makes you doubt you’ll ever feel anything again.

But this is what matters the most. We won’t ever speak again, and even if we do, it won’t ever be the same. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth it. Even if it feels that way at first. It’s probably cliche, and I’m sure it’s been said a million times before — but every memory, painful or positive, was for the better.

Will I remember her? Definitely.

Will I find someone better suited to who I am? I think I already have, though I’m trying not to jinx it.

Will I wish to see her again? Yes. I’m pained to admit it.

Will I be able to? No.

But that’s alright.

And I’m sorry. The Mortal Instruments wasn’t that terrible. But mostly because I got to see it with you.