it’s me, not you
February 18, 2015 § 2 Comments
There are days I am lonely for a misplaced friendship, acutely aware I have fallen out of the social graces of your company. Some days I whisper across the chasm between us, inviting a familiar smile or laugh; missing the sunlight of your enthusiasm and the effervescence of your chaos.
I thought I left because of you, but maybe it was me.
When we met I was outside my comfort zone and trying desperately to assume a role that did not fit. I was less myself and the surety of your confidence permitted me a place I could more easily disappear. Had I given my needs a more honest voice, we might still share conversations that don’t hint at forced politeness.
Instead I abandoned our friendship, consciously, with a passivity that was cowardly. Had I waded further into accountability and invested greater trust, I would be a better person in your life.
It must be acknowledged that our last year together was a horrible time for both of us, I offered only what I had to spare without trusting you might survive the burden of my grief. I waited for you to see my heartache, but I had stood too long in a place of silent acquiescence.
Some days the things I did not say sit against my tongue with a bitter aftertaste of remorse; I should have fought harder for the goodness between us. Instead I am carrying the sharp pieces of these lessons with greater consciousness, inviting myself in all my uncomfortable imperfection to each new relationship so that I am more present in my care.
It wasn’t you, it’s me.
scribblechic 
Forced politeness is one of the most isolating feelings, isn’t it? As if the chasm just widens with every word . . .
The hollowness of the platitudes reverberate with pride and guilt.