Heartbreak From Her

I believed her.

How could I not? As women, we are a sisterhood and are expected to fight for each other, drawing our swords to the neck of the enemy, not against our own. I’m expected to have faith in her character. So when came the trials and tribulations of life, what choice did I have?

She can’t deny that at her darkest moments, I was there. When her hard work didn’t pay off, I said keep going. I said try again. That’s what female friendship expects: unwavering support no matter what the circumstances. That’s only if she was willing to let me in. I followed the unspoken code that exists between women. I listened to every word she ever said and truly wanted to see her be successful, but I was never a mind-reader.

If there’s one thing that tacit code doesn’t cover, it’s heartbreak from her.

Playing the victim suited her well. A culmination of her selfishness and ability to play me like the guitar she always wanted to learn made her nothing less than fit for the role, but I continued to put my faith in the friendship. That’s the way it had always been, though; me giving myself, and her taking. And taking. And taking until there was nothing left that was purely my own.

It’s obvious to me now that she wanted nothing but control over me. I wasn’t willing to give it, and she cracked. But the thing about fitting someone for the role of the villain is that it’s one size fits all. The right words at the right time for the right person could cast a spell over anyone, and suddenly the make-believe is real. I let it happen, letting the smoky tendrils of lies fill my nose and ears and bring a stinging tear to my eye. I let her design the villain she wanted from me without even realizing it because I still trusted that there was some truth.

Ending a friendship is its own kind of break-up, one that feels like a piece of yourself that no one can see has been torn away. Women share a certain bond in which we feel able to share the deepest recesses of ourselves, and they will be safe living within someone else. When that safety and trust is taken, nothing is left but a bleeding wound. I let it happen. My fight was gone; in certain battles, you know you will never win. Quite honestly, the hell I had gone through wasn’t worthy of my time. If anything, it was a plot to be sold to a T.V. studio.

I am wiser now. I’ve come to learn that not all friendships are the genuine type. There are people out there that simply want to invade your kingdom for personal gain, and it’s the rebellion with the poisonous itinerary that will bring it down. They will groom you, shape you into their pet until you realize you can still grasp freedom and that your faithful women will drag you out of the flames.

At the end of it all, I am happier. I am happy that I am free of someone who tried their hardest to steal my ingenuity for their own gain. I am happy that I am free of someone who tried to suffocate my individuality for her own need for control. Most of all, I am happy I reconnected with a woman who had been there through it all, forging an unbreakable relationship that started when were just Daisies in Girl Scouts. She was the treasure at the end of the quest, the truest friend one could ever ask for in life, the person who embodies what it means to fight to the end for each other.

Even though she’s burned every memory and every bridge that has to do with me, I’ll ask a favor when she reads this.

Have a Guinness for me.

Photo by Natalia Figueredo on Unsplash