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  • Breaking Point

January 01, 2024

By Sophia Quattrocchi


According to a Dutch study done in 2009, the average friendship only lasts seven years, but for some reason, I thought we would break those odds. We had a good thing going for a while; we made it to thirteen years. I would like to say throughout those long years that I felt nothing but happiness, joy, and laughter, but that would be a lie. To be honest, I sometimes don't even know who you are anymore. And I am not saying I regret asking you to be my friend in kindergarten because we wore the same twinkle toes. I guess I am saying I wish the betrayal and the hurt you caused me wouldn't have been the reason I do not text or call you anymore. I instead would have imagined the distance between us becoming too hard or just the fact we are becoming different people. That was the breaking point that I had pictured for us.

Growing up, I thought it was you and me against the world. I guess it's stupid, but I would picture us traveling the world together, becoming roommates, and being the unstoppable best friends I always thought we would be. I hope you know that I would have done anything for you. Cry for you, stand up for you, fight for you, anything. But I can only take so much, and you took what was left—all my energy, time, and advice are no longer available to give you. I can only do so much, but I am sick of being the one reaching out. I'm done being the one asking the questions "How are you?" "How are classes going?" "Have you been busy?" If you can't give me the time of day, when you aren't just thinking about yourself, then I maxed out at thirteen years. Thirteen years of inside jokes, sleepovers, painting, dancing to music, and talking until two in the morning.

These memories have been the best moments of my childhood, but I can never forget the nights you've called me crying because your "friends" at school were bullying you. All of that time you took from me, I stayed up late standing up for you, giving you advice, and reminding you of how I'll always be there for you, just to go on Instagram the next morning to see a picture of you with your "friends" and words types across the screen: "I love you" or "Happy Birthday" or "BFF." It has hurt me in ways I don't think you can ever take back, because while you were giving me a million reasons of why you hated who I loved, I just wanted you to be my friend. But friends don't do that to one another, so I guess I am just saying I am done. I'm done answering the phone just to hear about you and your drama, because God forbid you can't just call me to ask about how I'm doing.