Sometimes I am the Worst

So many people have stories about the “one that got away.” Well, I have one of the stories too, only mine isn’t about a high school sweetheart or a college boyfriend that should have been the love of my life if life hadn’t gotten in the way. No, mine is about my best friend.

I still think of her as my best friend even though we’ve hardly talked since I graduated high school six years ago and that probably will never change. My loyalty is still hers and so is the title. I’ve made some wonderful friends that I hope will be life long since, but nothing compares to the friendship we shared since we were four years old.

We were inseparable as children. We rode the same bus to school, lived five minutes from each other and spent so much time together we practically became sisters. Her family was my family and mine was hers. Sure, we fought and couldn’t stand each other sometimes, but I always saw us cackling together as old ladies and telling stories of our youth to anyone who would listen. But it didn’t work out that way and it is something I will always regret. Six years later, I still miss her.

It was my fault that we stopped being friends. I was judgmental and harsh and just plain mean. That’s the worst version of me and I let her ruin something so precious. I’ve of course apologized since but things will never go back to what they were. There are some things that cannot be fixed.

I saw her today at a party. We said hello and that was it. I wanted so badly to talk to her, to learn about her life, to get to know the person she is now, but I couldn’t. I still feel so guilty about how awful I was and that held me back.

Sometimes I am the worst.


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