Friends no more

The distance had grown slowly, like shadows stretching at dusk. Once, their laughter had been a familiar warmth, but now it felt like a distant echo. She sat alone, thinking of the countless moments shared, the secrets whispered, and the promises made. Yet, beneath it all, a quiet ache had crept in—the realization that their paths had diverged, and she was walking hers alone.

At first, it hurt. A deep, gnawing pain, like losing a part of herself. But as days passed, clarity took the place of sorrow. She saw the truth: not all friendships are meant to last, especially when they no longer lift you.

It started small—just whispers of doubt that maybe, just maybe, they were slipping away. At first, it was just a cancelled plan here, a missed text there, and I shrugged it off. Life gets busy, right? But then, it wasn't just once or twice. It became a pattern. And with every missed message, with every subtle brush-off, I felt something gnawing inside me—something sharp and bitter. Anger. Resentment.

I watched as they found their replacements, like I was just some outdated version of a friend they didn’t need anymore. Every time I saw them laugh, joke, and bond with someone new, it was like being cut over and over again by the same knife—slow, deliberate, painful.

How could they forget me so easily? Like all our shared memories meant nothing. We were inseparable once. Now, they’ve made new connections, leaving me behind as if I never existed.

It wasn’t just the loneliness that enraged me—it was the realization that they didn’t care. They’ve moved on, and worse, they’ve replaced me. As if I’m disposable. Forgettable.

The worst part? I feel the anger growing, bubbling up, ready to boil over. But no matter how much I want to scream, they’re already gone—too busy in their shiny new friendships to even notice the wreckage they’ve left behind.

And that’s what hurts the most.