I wish you still felt worth it to me.

Even just in friendship. Having someone to talk to like this was interesting and fun, until it wasn’t.

You know, the last time I found myself in an abusive relationship, our mutual friends were taken aback that I didn’t say anything to them about it until he (a “friendship,” long story) had been gone for over a year. I told them that since he hadn’t been that way toward any of them that I didn’t want it to affect the way anyone else saw him. They still wished I had been more transparent. They were good people. Still are. But I will never be that transparent with others.

With you, it went from fun to something much less so; the following year reflective of the maladjustments I’d assumed over the previous two. No, you weren’t abusive. She was. But I never told you that, and then you insisted that I keep a friendship with her so that you could be comfortable around *me.* You know how sometimes reading it rather than just thinking it can reveal a “new” dimension of ridiculous? I think this might be one of those things. Unless you knew she was abusive and still insisted that one friendship was necessary to make another one work—I’m not gonna waste the amount of indulgence in negativity it takes to describe a person who does that.

But I figured it out and let go. And then I got really happy. But I never had to become happy for everyone else’s bullshit, of which only I or a few with me among them would be privy to, to be safe with me. I just want you to know that I’m actually happy. She makes me happy, but I became content before I met her … and I think it’s *why* I met her.

Please take care of the people who open up to you more sparingly, because they aren’t really hiding anything. It’s easy to confess; it’s much less easy to not spread negativity around like an infectious disease. And it’s nearly impossible to see what others aren’t doing to keep you safe. We’re all better off only speaking kindly of our exes. But some will never be candidates for continued friendship.

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