You are a terrible friend. So why do I keep chasing you?
“Sorry Mads, I can’t,” you message 13 minutes before your supposed TOA. “Something’s come up. Another time, yeah?”
Yeah sure. Another time. I’m used to going months, entire seasons of not seeing you without complaining when you cancel. I have been beginning to wonder whether I should stop asking.
It’s not that you are a busy person. I’m a workaholic too, I get it. It isn’t even that you don’t like me enough to see me all that often. What gets under my skin is the amount of disrespect you have for me.
I am always the one who has to bother to get in touch. The one who has to push into your diary. The one to flatter you after a bad day. The one to turn to when you get terrible feedback. I am your sugar coated paracetamol you grab at from the back of the friend cabinet.
I’ll always forgive you, always accept excuses, always hug you when everyone else thinks you are a self serving bitch. And after all that, I’m still dismissed so easily? Talk about a blow to my ego.
I should say fuck it and throw in the towel. I should delete your number, mute you on social media and calmly turn back to my books and comfortably odd friends. It shouldn’t even bother me to do so. You cause me so much angst.
Then why do I foolishly leap at the chance of seeing you? Why do I embarrass myself by admitting that I miss you? And especially, why do I keep telling myself I need you?
I’m fragile. Or at least too fragile to be dropped at the slightest opportunity. I’d rather you just told me, flat out, that you were bored of me. Your feelings have changed. You dislike me. Whatever. Just give me the closure I need so I can delete you and move on.
I won’t go psycho. I can handle big girl conversations. Hell knows I’ve kicked enough people out of my life.
Give me the dignity of an honest goodbye.