Bitches, man.

About two years ago, I cut ties with a few friends I had gone to school with. We'd been good friends for a number of years, or so we claimed. But, toward the end, I realized I couldn't really talk candidly with them, one of whom was supposed to be my best friend. I also had serious issues with who they were as people, what the represented; but somehow, I couldn't find the strength to confront them or take the necessary steps to get out.

It took me moving away, putting physical distance between us. On one hand, I thought that I shouldn't just trash these friendships that had - at one time - been quite important to me. We had shared so many good times...but our friendship lived on, at least in my mind, because of habit. And, if I felt that way, why stay? I had lost respect for them, and at that point, can anything of substance remain? I came to the conclusion that, no, it couldn't. So, I slowly drifted off, dropped below the radar. I didn't want things to get messy.

At some point, many months later, one of the girls emailed me to tell me that my ex-best friend was getting married and they needed my address for the invitation. I guess my subtle escape tactics didn't affect them in the way I had hoped. Or, they had chosen to ignore them. Either way I realized that if I didn't want to be friends with them anymore - and for such reasons - that I should be a great deal more explicit.

What occured after was difficult, probably one of the most challenging things I've ever had to do. In a few subsequent emails I told her how I really felt, let all the years of frustration and disgust come pouring out. Still, I tried to remain tactful. After all, I had two goals in mind with this revelation. First, I just wanted the peace of mind; I wanted to say all the things I went years without saying. But second, and perhaps more importantly, I wanted to phrase things in such a way that all the girls might take them to heart, to really internalize the things I wrote. It was so difficult because, with all of the animosity that I felt toward them, I didn't like knowing I would hurt them. I felt guilty as I typed feverishly away. Yet, it was liberating. I don't think I had ever been so brutally honest (and it was definitely brutal) with anyone before.

After all was said and done, I felt like I had done a good thing. That maybe, just maybe, they might be prompted to change - to become a little less selfish, a little less shallow. But as time went on, I realized that I had engaged in an exercise in futility. Because, they wouldn't change. They would just write me off as a bitch and go on living life the way they always had. Though I was saddened by this realization, I did garner something from the experience. I came to understand that I didn't need to write all of those things for their sake, it was for me. I needed to learn to be more true to myself, more expressive...in ways I was always too fearful to be.

That was a tremendous learning experience for me. I think that in knowing that I could be honest with myself and others, and that things would work out ok in the end has helped me to better navigate difficult personal situations. I still struggle with making myself heard. I can admit that I have a tendency to let people mistreat me and, instead of nipping things in the bud, I let them continue. In most cases, simply because I want to avoid drama. I hate fighting with people, but I am learning that it is necessary, and that I need to better assert myself if I am to have meaningful - truly honest - relationships.

I have thought of them rarely since. Lately, however, they have - for whatever reason - found their way into my thoughts and I can't help but wonder why. Perhaps a part of me is curious how they are, what they are doing know, and just who they have become.