It’s been almost two months since my close friend from high school and I stopped being friends. There is a ghost of her in my daily routine. It’s in the socks in the dresser that I wore after I stepped in a puddle in her apartment. She let me borrow them because I told her how much I hated the feeling of wet socks, and now they sit in the first drawer, clean and unworn. It’s in the hair tie from ACL, the one I could always tell apart because it is small, elastic, and indestructible, and the only one in my collection that never lost its snap. And somewhere, she still has my wall putty. She used it to hang her posters, and I remember feeling like I was holding her up in a way. I don’t wonder what went wrong, but when I think of the person I met and became friends with many years ago, I always get hit with a wave of nostalgia and a single question: “How could things get this bad?”
I think of all the ends of the friendships I’ve experienced, which all had terrible, slow build-ups of resentment and acts never forgotten, just for one measly argument to end it all. It’s the worst part — the part that shouldn’t define what we were but becomes an ugly scar that overshadows what used to be. It fills me with regret, because as time passes and wounds heal, all I can remember are the younger, smiling faces of the people I still hold love for.
I remember the car rides we used to have, when we’d go in her hot tub, eat at our favorite place, and skip school together. But somewhere along the way, she changed, had new friends, classes, experiences, and so did I. And my fatal mistake? I couldn’t forget who she used to be, so I couldn’t see who she had become.
Most friendships don’t end in a single, dramatic moment. They fade quietly, worn down by mismatched growth, unspoken expectations, and the assumption that history alone is enough to hold two people together. What lingers afterward isn’t confusion about what went wrong, but grief for something that once felt permanent. We remember the shared memories, the inside jokes, the versions of ourselves that existed in that friendship.
Now, I think about what I would do if I could have one last conversation with the friends I’ve let go. A mix of apology, anger, and a desperate wish for understanding would probably be the first thing I could say. But ultimately, the one thing I want now, after time and a lot of maturing on my part, is to be able to wave and smile if I see them as I’m walking down the road. As a testament to the history we share and out of respect to the people we are now.
I made the mistake of loving a ghost instead of the person standing in front of me. But time has a way of clearing your mind, and now, I’m learning to be okay with what once was. I’m learning that you can still have love for a person even after you’ve stopped holding a place for them in your life. And maybe one day, I’ll see her across the street, and I won’t turn away. I’ll just wave, smile, and keep walking to honor the history we shared by finally being okay with the fact that it’s over.