full circle or not

No matter how you try to deny it, we are growing apart. I can't shake it. It's something I haven't wanted to face for a while now, and with all that we've said today, it's staring me in the eyes, and I can't look away.

It isn't the fact that we haven't hung out at all since Christmas. It isn't the fact that you live on the other side of the mountains and that we're both going to school, although all of those are small contributing factors. It's the fact that every time I see something posted on my wall, which seems to be our only method of communication these days, I am constantly annoyed. It's the fact that you say immature things and then turn around with your serious face on and call the kettle black.

But most of all, it's the fact that I just don't know what to do about you anymore. You annoy me, you frustrate me, you make me cry, you make me extremely angry, and sometimes, you make me laugh and you make remember the joy in life. Lately, though, I've been feeling less joy and more confusion when I think about you. I can't just drop you like a hot potato, because we've waded through so much shit together. I can't just cut you off for an indeterminate amount of time and call it one of our "breaks," because this is more than a fight. This is a sign. This is pivotal.

I didn't want an argument, either, but that's how it ended up, didn't it? I was joking around and you took a turn for the serious. Something's shifted. It's not just our personalities butting heads this time.

Well, I trust my gut. All my feelings reside there.

I cried for about thirty straight minutes after our stupid spat. I just have so much important stuff piled on my buffet plate that I'm full before I even try anything; I can't deal with anything else. This, on top of everything else...I'm afraid of a nervous breakdown, to tell you the truth.

A bandage isn't going to cover this. I can apologize as much as I want to, but I'm not going to get rid of this, whatever this is. Friendships grow stale, they grow apart, it happens. This is not me quitting because I'm tired, this is me finally opening my eyes and getting out of bed after hitting the snooze button several times.

This is something. I hate it, too, but I'm not going to postpone its slow arrival into our lives on the off chance that I'll feel better for a month or two. What hurts me the most is that I can't talk to you about it right now,

because I will lose it.