and so i am indignant.
it's not like you and i disagreeing on the quickest way to the trailhead. or who is more full of trailhead-ness in the first place. or who has an actual real taste for IPAs (and which one of us just drinks them because the cute guys drink them).
but that's where i might be wrong. you were (so hard not to use present tense) so manipulative. and i said goodbye. through months (years) of untangling...block, hide, delete. you said goodbye back, not showing up, not responding, block, hide, delete.
you breathed fire for years. years and years. all of the years i've known you, you've breathed fire. (but maybe you're not anymore. is this new person the real you?)
i'm indignant because people say things like "she's so funny." "she's so nice." "i like your friend." and i'm all...who did you meet?
we were wrapped too close. every block, hide, delete was followed by a text, a note, a pin, a like.
and every time, i was indignant.
but we've been friends for so long. maybe that's it.
i know i hold grudges. oh man. do i hold onto them.
you're wrong. you're selfish.
you do not get to leave your kids for a new life. what are they supposed to say? are they supposed to tell you, breather of fire, that they will miss you? to please stay?
maybe they are fine. i hope they are.
what if they really are fine?
indignance tilts her head and murmurs...how can you be okay if your kids are fine with you moving to a different corner of the country?
twisty twisty grudges.
you paint a pretty picture. you say the right words with the right inflection. syrup instead of fire.
am i supposed to ignore this charred forest where our friendship resides?
i should allow you growth. i should allow myself growth. i should allow myself the incredible lightness of being. i shouldn't hold onto these wounds, these burns. i should allow you to change, instead of holding you as this fire breathing monster. while holding you to your fire.
(you are not mine to allow or hold on to)
"they don't need me."
i'm not a parent, but i'm sure you're not supposed to think that or say that. but maybe you've charred enough of them that they really don't need you.
i think you're wrong.
your actions are selfish.
you play the wounded.
but i'm the one with the burns of our friendship.
forgive. release. accept.
i don't want to explain myself to you. you're a grown woman. how do you make this right enough to go through with?
do i enjoy being right? do i enjoy watching your selfish ways?
it feels good, and i know that's not supposed to be a good feeling.
like binge watching reality tv.
i told you what i thought. and felt an unfriending, delete, block period starting. so i softened my words. so i could see how it played out (selfish me).
the wheels are turning, plans are moving forward. it's hard for me to be excited. though this should be an exciting time for a friend. i SHOULD be excited.
but it's a train wreck. a selfish train wreck painted over with your flowery words.
and that's all i have now, your flowery words.
bu those are better than the fire.
i do disapprove. that's why my texts come across as flat. i am not enthusiastic, because i have all of this charred ness.
because i've seen people crushed under your selfishness. without a thought.
i do not share your enthusiasm, because i've seen all of this play out many times. i've seen the hurt faces, i've heard your own indignation.
i don't see it. i don't see it. i just don't see it.
he won't see it, until it's too late.
flowery words over charred lands.
indignant, like a badge. grudge, like i'm proud of it. i have this list here, you see. this bag full of wrongs.
it's here in this pile of rubble, in this dark, charred, abandoned forest.
and i'm done with it. our friendship has been burned. too much has been said, done, left alone, picked apart.
untangling. unwrapping. unenthusiastic.
un. un. none. done.
you are not mine. this is not ours.
i'm leaving this burned place to let the new growth sprout.
in this charred forest, i leave blessings. i leave hope. i leave seedlings of friendship, love, and acceptance.
and this pile of grudges, to be given over to the blooming forest.