To my toxic friend,
I write this to you from my new home, the one you have not visited yet. It’s not that you’re banned from coming, it’s just, well . . . I’ve been quietly putting my walls up. There’s a little more distance between us right now, but I think you can feel that, can’t you? You can feel me pulling away.
There’s so much I want to tell you. There have been times I’ve wanted to sit you down and talk you through why I’m going quiet, and other times when I’ve wanted to pull out a notepad and write down all the reasons I need to spend less time with you.
I feel nervous. About this, and around you. I get nervous that I’ll do something you don’t like or say something that will offend you. I tiptoe around you: around your moods, your unpredictability and your propensity to get angry at me for the smallest of indiscretions.
When I told you about my promotion, you asked why I had told other friends first. When I fell in love with my boyfriend, you said I wasn’t there for you anymore. When I got approved for my first apartment, you took the opportunity to tell me why renting was ‘dead money’.
I am tired of not being able to tell you when good things happen; when I feel happy or when small windfalls of success come my way. I don’t appreciate the inference that by design of being fulfilled in my relationship and career, I am getting too big for my boots. I am tired of only being able to share the bad times, the negativity, my insecurities. I am sick of feeling like you want me to be smaller, like you get kicks out of cutting me down.
I know things may not be going well for you right now. I know that, I really do. I know things worry you and make you sad, I know the world feels hard and harsh and too big, sometimes.
I know you are struggling.
But I need to be honest here. I am wracked by the guilt of our friendship. Consumed by it, even. I lose sleep over not being around enough for you, not doing enough for you, not being enough for you. Sometimes I wonder what it would take to appease you, to make you happy. I wonder if there will ever be a time when I feel like my feet aren’t chronically making missteps, or when my priorities are perfectly in line with your own.
I am writing to tell you that, despite all the guilt I feel, I cannot continue this friendship in its current form. I feel bruised by your passive-aggressive comments, your demand for me to always be there. I am exhausted by your games, the need to constantly read your mind and the expectation that I should absorb your unhappiness whenever you need to unload.
So, if you’re wondering why I’m not around as much, why I’m not pinging your phone with messages and memes the second you go cold on me, it’s because this friendship has begun to deplete me. I need to take some time to recalibrate with people who make me feel full again.
I care about you deeply. That will never change.
But for now, I need to prioritise the friendships that feel equal and joyful – not the ones that make me feel like I’m failing a test I didn’t even know I was taking. Maybe one day we will find our way back to each other, and tell each other everything that happened in between. I hope you find friendships that fulfil you and soothe you and make you feel seen. We all deserve that, I think.
Love,
Me x