Thursday, March 13, 2014

Little Razorblade

I knew this girl once, like a sister.  She knew exactly how to get under my skin, to make me feel inferior, disguised with a friendly, helpful mask.  She was the person I had when I had no one else.  At the pit of my divorce, when friends were scarce and family was far, I turned to she-who-had-ultimately-betrayed-me because no one else was around.  I looked past the whining and the irritation and, time after time, I looked past her multiple betrayals because I just needed someone.  When I gained the confidence to stand up for myself, I set myself apart from the friendship, if that's what you could call it.  I told her it was time for us to part ways, and despite her begging, I told her the relationship was hurting me too much for it to continue.  Once I separated myself from her, I felt like I was finally able to breathe.  My esteem soared and I realized that all that time, she had dragged me through the mud to make herself feel only better.  Months have passed since we last spoke, and all in all, I am a much happier, more positive person.  So why do I still miss her?