when friends leave

happy for you (ugh)

“I am happy for you!” Fewer lies supersede this lie. I am happy for you, at best, means you are apathetic, and at worst you mean you are absolutely bummed, little worse could have happened. And since you are the guardian angel’s personal favourite, you cannot say anything except, “I am happy for you”

We can only be happy for ourselves. For instance, when friends leave.

Yes, everyone knew I was going to come to this overused overdone trope. But what do I say, I am a regular girl, with a regular life and all this very regular shit keeps coming my way and I am surprised at how regular I am and how regularly I fail to take the high road.

I take the low road, the lowest road possible. Sometimes, I dig the low road and then take a road much lower than that, sometimes it’s not even a road. It’s a gutter.

I am happy…for you. I am utterly dejected for myself. I am not happy at all. I am sad. even if I am slightly happy for you, the absolute shitstorm in my head upon this supposed good thing that has happened to you is overpowering the semblance of a single positive emotion.

Congratulations on leaving town and finding new friends I am totally fine.

Aims and ambitions. I will hate you for having them and I will hate you for not having them that is just the kind of person I am — unable to see past my own happiness.

You obviously cannot syay and I obviously know better than to dishearten you. So good that you’re going. You always wanted to.

I have no ill will. I do not want what you have. I just don't like the idea of moving away. As much as the romantics hate to admit, the world is not small. It is large. My feet won’t take me everywhere, neither will my car. I may have to trust a stranger to fly a plane just so I could see you. This bargain is an enormous loss for me.

I am angry. But I will say, you must go. Because in this gutter, I met with a rat. We are friends now.

I will shake hands with this rat and when I am not looking, leave.

But then I think, anywhere you go is a little bit straight and there you will be under the same sky.

And when I come back, I will say, told you it’s a small world.

And when you come back, I will say, time really flies.

It flies, not like a sweet breeze but like sporadic storms.