A decade ago, I encountered a unique individual named Mia. Initially, I had my doubts about her. I knew her through her roommate, and her quirks were quite pronounced. At only 18, she had left her hometown to move across the country to be with her boyfriend—a person she had yet to meet in person, despite years of online interaction. I ended up meeting him only twice over the span of seven years.
Mia was a passionate vegan and considered herself an expert on feminism and human sexuality. While her subtle sarcasm could be sharp, she was genuinely kind and overly considerate. Our friendship blossomed; we became close. I assisted her in securing a job in eldercare, where she quickly became unpopular with management for exposing the sexual abuse that undocumented women faced at the hands of those they were caring for. Her advocacy for others was relentless.
My affection for Mia grew. She was one of my dearest friends, standing by me on my wedding day, helping me move, and even modeling for me during my painting sessions. But I struggled to reciprocate her support fully. I was navigating numerous personal challenges and perhaps didn’t recognize that she needed more from me. She was a constant giver, making it easy for me to lean on her for help.
She was there during significant moments in my life—when my boyfriend and I moved in together, during his chemotherapy, and even as I prepared for my wedding. She assisted me again when I was six months pregnant with twins and needed to relocate.
The Turning Point
However, one day, I reached out to congratulate Mia after seeing her engagement announcement on Facebook. To my surprise, she didn’t want to talk. She expressed her anger and presented me with a list of grievances. Many of her concerns were unfounded; she claimed I had spoken ill of her fiancé, accused me of stealing a DVD (which I promptly replaced), and stated she disliked a portrait I had painted of her.
Listening to her grievances, I felt compelled to apologize, unsure how else to respond. When I asked how I could make things right, she declared I should never contact her again. I reluctantly agreed, and she cheerfully bid me farewell before disconnecting.
The Aftermath
For months, I followed her directives: unfriending her on Facebook and removing her from my Google chat. It was an agonizing experience. She was my friend, and it broke my heart to know that in what seemed to be a joyful chapter of her life, she wished for my absence.
For the most part, I’ve honored my promise not to reach out. However, when her new husband sent me a friend request, I accepted. Even after four years, I find myself checking in on her. In today’s digital age, locating people is relatively easy, especially with mutual acquaintances. A quick search can reveal much about someone’s life, making it tempting to keep tabs on those we once cared about.
It’s challenging not to feel a pang of longing when I see her achievements and career advancements, knowing I can’t send a note of congratulations or express how proud I am of her. Social media allows us to stay updated on friends’ lives, from new jobs to significant personal milestones. Yet, it also makes us accessible in ways we have never experienced before. I wish I could pull the plug on my curiosity and unfriend her husband, but the hope remains that she might someday think of me too.
Lingering Pain
Four years on, the pain of her absence lingers. I still yearn to reach out, to tell her how glad I am for her happiness and that I will always be here for her if she ever changes her mind.
Conclusion
In summary, the complexities of friendships can sometimes lead to unexpected heartache. Mia was a significant part of my life, and despite our estrangement, I still cherish the bond we had and wish her nothing but the best.
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