it was a sticky wobbly gelatin feeling, watching myself be cut from the group. when I arrived everyone gave confused
sideways looks to each other as if a stranger had walked into their house and sat down at the kitchen table. I couldn’t hold on to the most basic of things: a friend group served to me on a silver platter, forced together by circumstances. I didn’t know how to leave without being accused of giving up. I could picture them acting victimized
what, were we not worth fighting for?
maybe this mental picture was just a reason to stay, because I was not strong enough to sever myself from something so clearly toxic. it was an easy kind of pain.
did you think I couldn’t tell? the same thing had been done before to someone else, only this time I was on the outside. the obviousness of it was humiliating. it made me want to dig my fingernails into my red face until there were cascading lines of permanent crescent moons. I want you to know that I felt very alone. very pitiful- clutching my pink and grey striped bracelet.
it wasn’t something you could fix by becoming the perfect person. the fact that my focus and improvement damaged our relationship was a red flag. the better I got the more you seemed to hate me.
I won’t pretend to not know why. we are past the point of playing games, or at least I am.
I am familiar with the feeling of hating someone because they are succeeding. I makes you wonder if you are a bad person. It consumes you so quickly you feel sick. diseased. vicious in the way an injured wild animal is. it makes its self comfortable and stays a while.
the first step of recovering is to name it- this feeling lives in the shadowy corners of your being and this is the equivalent of shining a bright light on it.
I want this to be clear: I don’t blame you,
It’s just- I had a choice to make