Ode to another lost friend

It was all my fault, I’m the one that ended it. So technically, I suppose, it’s the friendship that is lost, not the friend.

Sunday was the last time we hung out. I savoured every moment, but the tension in the air was palpable. For weeks now, deep down inside, I’ve known our time together was coming to a close.

I have to keep reminding myself that it wasn’t a healthy relationship. The attraction had grown to the point that it felt like an addiction. In fact, it was an addiction.

Seems like everywhere I turned this week, I’d see my friend hanging out with other people, looking fine as can be, as if nothing had happened.

Each time, I had to look away quickly, fighting the urge to run over and say that it was all a mistake and I wanted us to be together once again.

Somehow, I’ve managed to pull through and make it to Friday, but now that the weekend is here it’s a whole new challenge.

My dear coffee, I miss you terribly, but after going five days without you, I can honestly say, I think I’m going to make it without caffeine after all.




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