Recently, I went through a friend breakup. It was nothing like any of my last ones, you know the ones. The explosive arguments, the dishing of dirty, the call-outs—none of those happened with this breakup. No, it was quite silent. I had been sensing we were growing apart, but a part of me wanted to cling to what we used to have. That is always the first mistake. Never cling to what it was rather than accept and move on. She was in town and I messaged her, asking to meet for our usual brunch date. No response. I texted her, no response. Then I see her posting all over social media and viewing my stories, especially the private ones where I was clearly struggling and needed her. But then I shifted from needing, to wanting, to despise, to dismiss. Her services, or lack thereof, were no longer needed.
So I accepted it, she no longer wanted to talk to me, I no longer fit inside her life. What was strange is that it did not hurt as much as I thought it would. My once best friend was now a simple stranger in my eyes. Someone I used to know, someone I will now watch from a distance on socials. It’s better that way, rather than having empty lunch dates filled with air-headed comments and reminiscing about the same story over and over. I won’t feel obligated to invite her to big events or even worry much about the happenings in her life. I won’t erase her from my past, but I will block her from being in my future.
Strangely, the day after I wrecked my car, she messaged me on Snap. I’ll never know what it was since I’ve decided I’ll never open the message. Maybe it was a funny inside joke we once shared, maybe it was a check-in asking if I was okay. I am okay, okay with the decision that I no longer need to speak to you in order to feel validation or comfort. Because the ones who were close to me texted me instead of messaging me on Snapchat. They know how much I despise the app and tend to mute all notifications from there.
True friends call when they know you’re in need. True friends know your habits, what tends to make you tick. My true friends know that I hate occasionals (grifters, as I like to call them), people that only pop into your life to give you that quick boost of dopamine, in exchange for sucking the energy out of you. Over the years, I noticed all she would do was suck the life out of me for her enjoyment, but whenever the focus was on me, she could care less. I don’t always need to be the main character, I won’t fall into that syndrome, but when the narrative surrounds me, being just a cameo will never sit right with me.
A word of advice: break up with distant friends now, so that you have room for the ones who truly care about you.
