I would never expose who it is though if this person reads what I’m about to pen they will know without question, since they’ve done it twice before.
The last two times we were reunited, my joy was that great, I forgot how painful the rejection was.
I should be used to this conduct by now having lost so many friends who cannot deal with my compromised state though always politely, passionately denied. The last important one being Jed, and I don’t care that I’m using his real name since he hurt me that much.
Before I go on, you do know who your friends are when you’re crumbling where you stand. They hold a vigil offering their hand letting you know, despite how it may feel, you are not alone…feelings after all, aren’t facts.
That said…this last defection shouldn’t surprise me yet it hurts right down to my socks. I’ve learned though, someone’s bizarre, unpredictable behavior has little to do with you even if you are hemorrhaging because of it.
I can only compare it to watching a ship sail out of port. It lifts anchor at the dock slowly taking leave. You watch as it gets smaller and smaller disappearing over the horizon wondering if you’ll ever see it again.
I have the utmost respect and admiration for this person who I know struggles in their day to day existence. My heart opens willing to do whatever it takes it help and assist.
Naturally in true Susannah fashion I blame myself and my multitude of problems people no longer wish to hear. A shrink I had called this a Grandiosity Complex, always making it about you. But when you’re hurt, it is about you, so shame takes center stage while friendship, a final bow. But thank God, I’ve honed the skill of rallying.
Yet it doesn’t matter how I spin it…I still feel abandoned, but wisely see being the third time this dance was done, despite the pain, it has nothing to do with me…therefore…
I will quietly and sadly, bind my wounds.
And as always, wish her well.