This post contains sensitive writing about a subject that could be perceived as sad. It is about the end of a friendship, and holds quotes from the last conversation. I’m not trying to portray anyone as “the bad guy”, or the good guy. I’m pouring out my side of things, after having to hear theirs.
Where could I even begin. The start feels too far away, and this moment is the ending.
Ｔｈｉｓ ｍｏｍｅｎｔ ｉｓ ｔｈｅ ｅｎｄｉｎｇ．
For 4 years I had you, and after two I finally forgot to constantly fear of losing you. Yesterday reminded me that I should never forget that fear, not even the ones closest to me. Your words delivered to me by just mere pixels on screen, 1’s and 0’s in an order that I for some reason, to my disadvantage could read.
“𝑀𝒶𝓎𝒷𝑒 𝓌𝑒’𝓁𝓁 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹𝓈.”
4 years. 1461 days. From one game to another, we stuck to each other like thorns stick to skin, yet we fit each other like a shirt on a butt. We worked through drama, we fought and we figured it out. We laughed, and cried, and panicked. We moved and broke up, we begun relationships and watched each other fail at them. You watched me fail at mine, at least. I wasn’t told about yours after a month it happened. That hurt me too, you know?
“𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝓈𝒶𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝑜𝓁𝒹.”
I returned to Second life after a year of absence. Before my disappearance I cleared my friends from 60 to 15, and from the ones left it was 7 individuals. You were the one left, of course. When I came back I had 6 people on my friends, 3 individuals – one who had quit, one who still played, and you. But you were busy, each time I asked, you were busy.
And I was lonely. I reluctantly dug up my avatars, I built a look I liked and I started adventuring sims. I started meeting people who I didn’t even like, as well as ones I grew to care for. I brought them to our home, because you told me that was okay. I always made sure to ask if it was okay. While adventuring I saw the most beautiful and magical places, met people with fantastic avatars, I fell in love with the world again, and I wanted to build a place this time – one I could truly make a home instead of a small skybox in the air we got before. I asked you if that was okay and I knew you were against it… I just didn’t know why.
“𝐼 𝒹𝒾𝒹𝓃’𝓉 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓎.”
Every time I asked if something was okay, I truly wanted to be sure it was, and every time, you said yes. If you said no I respected it. You were worried about valid things, and I took them into consideration, I changed my plan based on them. I got us a new place that could fit both our needs. I was happy. I had finally started doing fine on my own, with people other than you to hang out with, why was that a relief? Because I felt like you were too busy for me, so I had to make myself busier. I thought you were happy.
I was, at least. But your words, lack of them more specifically, bottled up and caused an explosion not even I can fix with my words.
“𝐼 𝓇𝑒𝓏 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓎.”
I asked you to come see our new place. I had already begun working on the outsides because I thought the surroundings would look nicer and you’d feel better about moving if I made it look like home. I rezzed our house, I rezzed out trees, plants, objects to decorate the garden – I even decorated the upstairs – but I left downstairs be, thinking we could work on it together when you would have time. I left downstairs a pile of moving boxes, and I waited. I asked if you were busy hours later, and surprisingly you weren’t. You came over, and we called on discord. I didn’t ask how you were doing because you seemed stressed, I thought it was work. Clearly it wasn’t. So I tried to drive your focus to decorating with me, to rezzing out things and thinking how to make the first floor look.
You didn’t tell me it bothered you.
“𝐼 𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼’𝓂 𝒹𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓅, 𝐼 𝒹𝑜𝓃’𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑒𝓃, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃’𝓉 𝓁𝑒𝓉 𝓂𝓎𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻 𝒷𝑒 𝓊𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈.”
This, to you, felt like me using you. That I went and made new friends, that I found pets and love and a reason to be back in SL. That I messaged you to ask if things were okay every time I saw you even though in the end I knew the answer. I used you? No. I believe the problem was that I didn’t dedicate myself to you. I didn’t ask for your permission to buy items I made with my job. I didn’t ask for your permission to accept a pet. I didn’t ask for your permission to want more prims.
I shouldn’t have needed to, either.
𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐦𝐞, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮.
I am NOT sorry that I met the amazing people I did. I am NOT sorry that I wanted change, and I am NOT sorry that you didn’t have time for me.
Ｔｈｉｓ ｍｏｍｅｎｔ ｉｓ ｔｈｅ ｅｎｄｉｎｇ．