My Ex-Friend and I

About ten years ago, I met her. She was petite in stature, a little chubby for someone of her build, had round hazel brown eyes and a ton of freckles. She had a raspy voice, which she proudly compared to Mariah Carey’s, but I can’t remember hearing her sing even though we went to a karaoke bar for our first team building.

If you were her friend, she would have your back. She would fight your ex for you; even fight your ex’s side chick in public. She’s super biased. She chooses her friends even if you were the asshole. I guess that partly made her so fun to be with. She started this whole thing where we would meet up at least once every year for dinner and catch up with each other. She was kind of the social butterfly of the group, always had some place to recommend, so we always left the planning to her. We trusted her so much, but she ended up becoming a lesson for all of us.

Since I was back in town for a short while, I asked everyone who was available out for dinner. And well, we couldn’t really help talking about her. We were confused why she did what she did. One of our friends who didn’t even know what was happening asked if we hated her. Surprisingly enough, we can’t even bring ourselves to hate her. We were hurt, getting betrayed over something so petty, getting lied to, but what we felt towards her was more of a disappointment than hatred. We wanted to understand why things had to end the way they did.

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