I sit alone, in the cold basement bedroom. As I try to write, instead, all I come up with are thoughts of the past. I play the song on repeat, and I wonder what I could have done differently. Or, if I even wanted to.

I've made mistakes. A lot of mistakes.

But that's all they were.

Mistakes.

I'm told that my passion is too much.

That my compassion is suffocating.

So I stepped back.

I stepped away.

And when my best friend decided she didn't like that,

I was the one to blame.

I should have asked if she was 'okay."

But, isn't that the same thing that made her angry in the first place? Ask if she's okay. If there's anything I can do to help,

And suddenly, she hated me.

That was difficult, at first. But then it got easier.

It became easier in the moment I decided to walk away.

The friendship was toxic. We hurt each other day after day. I spent half my days crying over somebody who wasn't worth the tears.

And it took far too long to realize that.

Yes, it was still hard, but I did it.

Until she decided she missed me. That she wanted me to be her best friend again.

I chose to forgive, but not to forget.

No longer is she my best friend in the world, but more of an aquaintance.

No longer will I be hurt.

She was once my favorite person,

But now she's somebody I can look back on and give a bittersweet smile to.

A smile to the times we had, and a smile to the choice I made.