Maybe It's Okay

Maybe the key wasn't hating you. Maybe the key wasn't crafting the perfect goodbye. Maybe the key wasn't sniffling under the desk just to feel worthy. Because you know what? This grief shows that it wasn't a lie. It wasn't a pretty promise. It was small, it was warm, it was comforting and it meant something. Grieving a meaningful friendship is better than grieving a bunch of betrayal and hurt. Because even if it hits harder, even if it hurts deeper, the little thought that it meant something all makes it feel worth it. I feel alive again. And maybe I don't hate it that much. We're not two people who ruined each other, but two people who gifted each other with nothing more than a good, unique friendship. But good doesn't mean perfect. Good doesn't mean flawless. So life got in the way, and the circumstances are too harsh. That's the only thing that seperates us, because we're no longer two people who ruined each other, but two friends who realised the stakes, chose to forgive each other for all the big stuff, stupid stuff, and everything in between because we both know that's what we truly want. A peaceful and realistic and honest farewell. Letting go of the weight of the circumstances, but never what we have given each other. Despite the messy parts, I’ll still be the bubbly and humorous and straightforward girl your companionship brought out in me. Even if it was sometimes too much. Maybe I’ll still imagine a picture with our friend group, laughing about another Harry Potter imitation or just a stupid truth or dare question. Maybe I’ll still think of the things I never got to say. Maybe I’ll still sob myself to sleep sometimes. Maybe I’ll still yearn your voice in my head, see your face in another one of those ridiculous imaginary scenarios of mine. Because they keep me going. They feel too real. And I don’t want to force myself to spend another hour searching for the pressure and fathoming what never existed. You know I felt the complete opposite when you were by my side. I’ll simply grieve it until it all passes and my own life becomes occupying again, but the same time accept the fact that we were two good friends tangled in a fate that was too cruel, too demanding, too fast, too tiring. That’s it. We smoothened our our own rough edges through the way we always did. Not ignorance, but forgiveness. The choice to choose peace rather than hatred for us.  Except that it’s the last time we ever will…and maybe, just maybe, that’s ok with me.