I do not have a best friend anymore.
That feels so strange to say.
I do NOT have a best friend anymore.
The one who held that place finally decided that they were done. Over. Enough. I wasn’t worth knowing anymore. Not by action that can be named but by those that still caused so much pain. This friend. This entity decided that I was their newest enemy.
I should have seen it coming. Actually, no, I did. Made a whole post about BPD and friends. But see it was not my personality at fault, in fact, one would say that I was downright innocent but that can be debated. See this was clearly fated when I spoke to my therapist about signs of abuse and if some could be found in the stories I shared of us since our youth.
“Well, she yelled at me, but it was totally my fault!”
“Haha yeah she made some off-handed remark about how I wasn’t enough, but where was the lie in that?”
“Ok no, she can be controlling but it’s endearing. How love is shown by manipulation. I mean, ok not always but she is happy so there was no need for my hesitation.”
My therapy sessions sounded like recorded excuses. One’s where I recalled all the times when she implied I was useless. But I stuck around cause I had no one else. Because I needed a best friend, above all else.
I no longer have a best friend.
She is gone.
Decided that I was someone who she no longer wanted to pull along.
It’s strange to say, after so many years.
Maybe one day I will get used to it and properly heal.