Taboo

Five months of quiet grief.

Ever since that one misunderstanding, the distance quietly grew. It felt like everything changed overnight, and I wasn’t sure if I truly belonged anywhere anymore.

The truth is, she’s one of the most important people in my life, both as a friend and as a person. Her friendship gave my life a kind of meaning I thought I’d lost. I always showed up for her, and I still would, without a second thought.

But sometimes I wonder if I gave too much of myself too quickly. Maybe that made it easier to step back, even if that wasn’t the intention.

When I tried to clear the misunderstanding, maybe I just couldn’t get the words right over text. Or maybe she was just seeing things differently than I was. We didn’t talk for months, and for the longest time, I didn’t know how to reach out.

I don’t understand why falling for a friend is treated like a crime. Like a taboo. Maybe people keep them separate because the blurred line between friendship and love unsettles them. But for me, the two always overlapped.

Friends tell me to move on, to let go of the feelings, the sadness. But they don’t understand how much she still means to me, how deeply her silence hurts, or how calling it a “crush” makes a joke out of everything I truly felt.

This whole thing made me question what I used to be sure of. What love and friendship really are, and how much they mean to people.

She knows me better than most. I told her things I never even shared with my closest friends. I held on to a quiet hope that she might sense how much I was hurting, but she had her own struggles, and I never found a reason to hold it against her.

I don’t open up easily because I fear people won’t understand the depth of my feelings. Lately, I’ve started to wonder if anyone ever will.