You Never Texted Me Again

I remember when I decided to stop texting you first. I didn’t want to stop initiating conversations, but the way that you made me feel left me no choice. You hurt me so badly that I could no longer allow you the privilege of hearing from me first.

I grew tired of being the one who reached out, made plans, and kept our friendship alive. I felt like I was the only one who cared about us, so I stopped reaching out to you. I allowed you to make the next move.

I made that decision for a reason, but I still held on to faith that you’d care enough to notice, reach out, and show up.

You never reached out to me. And now, it’s been years.

Times have changed. I no longer have your number saved in my phone. If you texted me today, my phone would show a string of numbers that used to mean something to me, not your name and a cute little emoji. And honestly, I don’t know if I’d even respond to you now, even though years ago, I would have dropped everything to answer you.

You never prioritized me like I prioritized you. And now, you’re no longer my priority.

You always acted like others were more important, interesting, and worthy than I was. If I were gold, they were platinum. If I were a sunflower, I would be in a field of sunflowers. I was never the one you chose first, and sometimes I felt like I was barely even in the race for your attention.

I don’t think that you ignored me maliciously. I don’t think that you even realized how much your actions hurt me. But I also believe that if you cared about me in the way that you claimed, then we might still be friends today.

My younger self never could have imagined that you’d just disappear from my life. I never thought that our friendship would end without a “goodbye.” I’ve accepted that we’re no longer friends, but some days, I can’t wrap my head around the fact that you turned into someone that I never thought you’d be.

Part of me wants to give you the benefit of the doubt.

After all, life gets busy, and it’s hard to reach out to others, even when we mean to. I’ve been guilty of forgetting to reply too. But I don’t think that’s what happened with us.

I know exactly why I stopped reaching out: I didn’t want to be the only reason that our friendship still existed. I figured that if our friendship actually meant anything to you, then you’d have reached out by now. But you’ve stayed silent.

I wonder sometimes if our friendship still exists in some strange, dormant way. Maybe we could meet again after years of silence and pick up right where we left off. But when I think about how you treated me, I’m not sure that we ever truly had a friendship at all.

Maybe I forced this “friendship” until it blew up. That realization stings more than your silence ever could.

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