This is my interpretation

So I guess I’m obliged to write about this. I cannot ignore it, and I cannot just sweep it under the rug with the rest of my dirt and leave it for another day. Might as well get it over and done with in one clean sweep.


You married her last weekend, after years of the news of your engagement being circulated and speculated about, particularly around me – people like fishing expeditions for sensation and gossip. I was told about your nuptials in the same way that a bomb technician handles a live wire – ever so carefully and silently afraid that he may trigger some unstoppable device that will make me emotionally implode. I guess not.


Sure, I have always wondered what I would feel like should this finally come to pass, but to even my own heart’s delight I feel exactly as I did yesterday. That is not to say that it’s all forgotten, but I have long since forgiven you (no matter whether you deserve it – everybody needs a little forgiveness) and so the only real question that was left is what I would do once I knew you were gone for good. Strangely, I feel nothing spectacular.


I am, of course, happy for you. That goes without saying. I can only offer my congratulations as one would to some far off relative that is doing well. You’re really glad for them, but you don’t exactly feel a swell of emotion that will sway you either way. I think I have risen above the petty hatred that caused the tug of war between our lives. You will always be a significant part of my past, but that does not make this difficult to deal with.

 The only thing I feel is relief.


Firstly, because this brings a sense of finality to a story that has long since darkened the outskirts of my being. There was a lot about that time that we both could have done differently, but in the end, the end was not caused by us and therefore we cannot blame each other (Ok, you have your own view about that analogy, so what). Your opinion of and loyalty towards me suffered irreparable harm and the ripple effect shot through our lives like a tsunami,  making it a much more complicated situation than ever intended. I cannot rewrite history any more than you can. We both suffered and no one came out better off for it. It saddens me that we could not part on a better footing, but the one thing you cannot fault us on is that we were and always will be realists. We knew the end of our relationship would be the end of our friendship, if not because of anything else but that our love was based on that friendship. If we did not revoke the friendship, the love would not die, as it should and must have. Call me crazy, but this resembles the closest to closure that luxury will afford us.


Secondly, you have no idea how elated I am that you are, in fact, doing really well. I imagine you happy on your honeymoon and planning your bright future and it brings me more joy than what you know. Unbeknownst to you, I have had the most vivid nightmares about you. I see you in my dreams, a flash of burning fire, contorted and twisted in pain and anguish while I try ever so ardently to get to you in time to save you, never making it, always waking up with my muscles tensed and your screams resonating in my hurting head. It tore me to pieces to have this ominous cloud of despair surrounding me night after night without any way to warn you of this dreaded feeling I had inside.


I guess my compass doesn’t always show me true north, and I am glad that, for once, it proved to be a good thing. You may never believe this, and it is a shame, but as much as I do not want to be a part of your life, I want your life to be a good one. You were important to me. I’m not ashamed of that, and the fact that we have long since parted in silence and tears has not made me think any less of you. Just because our time together was at an end does not make you any less of a good man. Would I like to be vindicated? Of course. No one likes being the fall out person for someone else’s fuck ups, but it happens. Would I like the chance to change things? No thanks. We’ve both moved on, and I maintain that you cannot look too harshly on your past, because it leads you into your future.


I look down at the ring you gave me almost 5 years ago, which I wear every day (and no, it’s not like that, it just happens to be a nice ring) and I realise that there is something significant that I feel, something worth remembering. Our past holds not only a relationship, but a history of friendship that was intertwined into the forming part of our lives. Who we are today started taking shape long before we ever got romantically entangled. You, my best friend, not you, my boyfriend, were part of that time when I started finding the happiness that I have now. How can I ever hate you for that?