Taboo

Five months of quiet grief.

Ever since that one misunderstanding we never truly fixed, the distance quietly grew. It felt like everything changed overnight, and I wasn’t sure where I fit in anymore.

The truth is, she’s one of the most important people in my life. As a friend. As a person. Maybe more than I ever was in hers. I’ll never really know. I always showed up for her, and I’d still do it without a second thought.

But sometimes I wonder if it meant the same to her, or if I gave too much of myself too quickly and made it easier to walk away. 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 prefer simpler labels, because the blurred line between friendship and love unsettles them.

But for me, true intimacy happens only when friendship and deeper feelings overlap. I’ve only ever cared deeply for those I’ve known a long time, the ones I trust. It takes time. Late-night talks. Shared silence. Vulnerability. I care about who someone is, not who they pretend to be.

Yet, being genuine like that is frowned upon.

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” dismisses what I really feel.

This distance between us made me question things I used to be sure of, like what love and friendship truly mean to people, and if I was ever truly seen, or just there.

She knew me better than most. So I held on to a quiet hope that she might sense I was still hurting, but maybe she was too caught up in her own struggles to see how hard I was trying to make things right.

I don’t open up easily because I fear people won’t understand the depth of my feelings. It took nearly a decade to let someone in. And even then, everything still fell apart.

Maybe love isn’t always about destiny. Maybe I just wanted to matter to her deeply and quietly, permanently.