ghosted

another friend gone. little by little, (almost) all of them have left me in their own way. by moving to another city or another state, which is justifiable, by “not having time” aka being unwilling to make time together a priority, which is just shit, and now by blocking me cross-platform with no warning, no explanation.

been back and forth with myself on this. debated whether or not to publicly talk (write) about it. but when i scrolled through the memories tab on facebook, and saw the photo i had taken of the first day we spent together, a photo of her and my son sitting side by side on a rooftop bench, i felt a pang of anger in the pit of my stomach. this is just as much my story to tell as hers — not that she’ll ever speak on it, and that’s precisely the problem.

i’ve been ghosted. a term i first heard from the person who ghosted me, funnily enough. i was over at her apartment once, and she was, rightly so, griping about a boy who had ghosted her. as in ceased all communication and contact without any apparent warning or justification. as in ignoring any attempts to reach out or converse. you know, what all closeness-avoiding, intimacy-fearing millennials do nowadays. seems only right that she’d be the one to dole out the same cruel punishment to me. that’s what bullies do, right? continue the vicious cycle? hurt because they hurt? it’s like we’re back in hormone-drenched high school all over again, except now we’re a pair of grown damn women who should be more than capable of effectively communicating with one another, of airing out any grievances we may have, and of staying and working things out when the going gets tough, not simply running away from our problems like some sorry, skittish school children.

oh, do i sound bitter? colour me surprised.

since the day i noticed i had been blocked (a mere forty-one days ago, but who’s counting), i’ve sent three texts that verge on being considered novellas. of course, needing to stay true to character, she’s ignored every damn one of them. and i still don’t know if it was just that she needed space to breathe, or if i had actually done something careless to genuinely upset her. she wouldn’t ever actually, y’know, respond to finally put me out of my misery and stop my worrying over every little thing i had ever said or done that could have set her off, so after four years of friendship, i was left wondering, wandering alone in the dark.

but i’ve given up hope for a reply, for a reason. no, she’s made what she wants abundantly clear. she just decided to do so in a let’s-make-a-fellow-human-being-feel-like-utter-shit-and-doubt-themselves-and-their-worth-as-a-friend sort of way. nice, right?

i hope she learns from this. hope she grows up. i know i’ve learned. learned not to have even lowest expectations of people, because more often than not, they’ll probably let you down. and i’ve certainly learned, too, not to make the same mistake of thinking i’m ever too close to someone, thinking i matter too much to someone, for them to treat me this way again.

roy was right. people. what a bunch of bastards.

ps: i’m glad i did this. whether it’s immature or not to stoop to this level, it’s been therapeutic to get it all out. better than once again drafting and revising and perfecting and sending another wasted lengthy, heart-felt text, anyway.

pps: if you’re reading this, and you probably aren’t, i’ve moved past the initial confusion and hurt i felt in spades, and now i’m on resentment. so if you ever have a change of heart, and you probably won’t, do us both a favour and keep it to yourself. might as well put that being silent talent of yours to good use.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s