I'm grieving a Lost friendship.
My best friend
Victoria.
Can I still call her that?
Could I have ever called her that?
Some of you might have heard me speak her name in hate,
In anger,
In pure, undying rage.
But today I speak it in love,
Because I love her;
Victoria.
I love her, but I had to let her go.
She's the only one who understood,
What I was going through.
What my family life was like, as a Big Sister,
As an unloved child.
She even understood the heartbreak I endured in 2015.
To an extent.
And this brings us to the second stage of grief:
Anger.
I am angry at her for choosing him over me.
If she were my friend, how could she be with him?
Knowing what he did to me, to JRF?
To Molly, with hair like a lion's mane?
How could she see blindly past it?
I can never get his touch out of my aching skull;
How can she love being touched by the same hand who hurt me?
Who hurt at least 3 others?
I asked my mom what she thought.
Was our friendship weird?
Awkward?
Unusual?
"Imagine if Anna got together with Travis, who I am still to this day traumatized by, 21 years later. Of course it would be awkward to be her friend.
She wasn't a true friend."
Could that be?
Could that really be the truth behind the pretty pictures?
Could she, deep down, not see me as a friend?
"It's always been about winning with her. She has Mark, who you were so in love with. She's trying to dangle that over your head. That's what she's always done!"
But that's not true.
All we had was eachother, for the longest time.
We're past all that, right?
Right??
Maybe.
.... right?
I loved her.
Victoria.
I'm angry at her.
Victoria.
I love her, and I'm angry at her.
I miss her.
Victoria....
- The Spider