Closure

Time. It passes. Sometimes fast and sometimes slow.

It’s been nearly a year since we’ve seen each other. I thought perhaps if I gave you enough time that you would contact me again, see if I fancied a drink and a chat. But no. I’ve reached out to you and have been rewarded with the odd text, but predominantly silence.

It hurts.

It hurts knowing that I hurt you in some way so much that you no longer want to know me. It hurts knowing that I can’t even change it because I don’t know what I’ve done that’s made you hate me so much. That’s made you want me out of your life completely.

We became close. Too close perhaps. I cared too much. For that I raise my hand and admit guilt. But I never realised I was so disposable. You took from me. You took my friendship. You took my connections. You took my trust and you threw them all away as though they and I mean nothing. Meant nothing.

I had hoped we could share that cocktail, so that a bridge could be built. Or a smile shared, some laughter or filth and a final goodbye could be hugged out. But no. It’s not meant to be. I’m leaving soon and the opportunity will be lost.

I hate that you know so many of my friends. I hate that because every once in a while someone will mention you in a memory and I am left swallowing a lump in my throat because you have cut ties with me so completely that I can’t provide them with any answers. I hate that I still care about you this much.

Life. Always so bittersweet. For every smile there is a tear. For every friendship made, another fades away. I’ve tried so hard to keep this one alive, but now, as I sit here and let the tears roll down my cheek one final time, I am admitting defeat. I accept failure. I understand that I’m not worthy enough of your friendship. And although I miss you like crazy, I am saying goodbye.

Goodbye you. I’m confident you’re reading this and it’s the only way I can think of to ensure you’ll read something from me. I wish you well and all the fun and fluff that you can grab out of life.

This is closure.

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