I gave a best friend - it taught me about myself.

I gave a best friend - it taught me about myself.

It was three years ago since I last talked to Maya.

It's not because she passed away. It's not because we fought.

But because I disappeared.

And I still don't know how to explain it without sounding like a coward.

Because I was last.

Maya was mine. You know the type - your emergency contact, 2am, know what you feel before you say the words. We met in high school and were closely linked to college. We were girls of mutual honor and joked that our children were updated side by side and not apart as others did.

And for a while we lived as if we were immune to the chaos of life.

Then life happened anyway.

After that, Maya took a marketing job in another city. I stayed behind and tried to find a job, but wasn't sure what to do next. We wrote SMS every day. I called every weekend. With a plan, we barely stopped. But something started moving inside me.

I fell into a mild depression that I couldn't understand. Every call with her reminded me of who I was before - harmful, cheerful and optimistic. And whenever she told me about her new projects, her funny employees, and her weekend plans, I smiled and congratulated her.

But I felt drowned.

News increased - She, unread. It is then characterized as "reading," but cannot be answered. It's not open at all after that.

"Hey, I've heard a bit of you. Are you all okay?"

"I miss you. Can I talk right away?"

"Are you mad at me or something?"

"...I don't know what I did, but I'm sorry when I hurt you."

I saw this news flashing on the screen and didn't do anything.

It's not because I didn't take care of it. But because I take care of it too much and don't know how to explain that I can't be the version of myself she loved.

is no longer there.

weeks were several months. Guilt built up guilt as static in my heart. Enter your answer and then delete it. I was sure she would be better without me - my sadness, my silence, without my shame.

Finally, she stopped reaching. And I still said nothing.

If there was good news, I told myself I would connect again. When I did my job, I was proud. When you feel it's worth talking to someone again.

However, healing does not wait for permission.

Almost a year after silence, my treatment led to my treatment.

My therapist said something that moved me violently:

"Avoiding is protection - but it is also prison."

I thought I would protect Maya from my own mess, but if she saw the dark side of me, I really protected myself from shame.

I did not give her the opportunity to love herself.

I took them out of the election.

I found her on Instagram a few months ago. She looked happy - decorated with new friends, marking people I didn't recognize in the photos. A birthday contribution was made in the caption of the inscription "Surrounded by those who appeared."

I was not one of them.

And frankly, she had all the rights to continue.

What did the ghosts of my best friend tell me? This silence does not protect those they love - they violate them in ways they may never see.

That disappearance does not disappear - it slows healing.

Not only the role of highlights, but also the people who take care of you, the real people you want.

He taught me that regret is hard in most cases.

I still don't know if I'll message her or not.

I don't expect forgiveness.

I don't even know if I'll make it or not.

But maybe one day I've written: I wasn't okay. I didn't know how to say it. But I should have done it. And I'll miss you."

Even if she never answered, the message may be more for me than her.

How to say I'm no longer this version of myself. I'm trying to do it better.

And maybe - maybe - the place where healing begins.