Bursting the bubble

The day I told you what I was REALLY thinking ended our friendship.

I find myself playing back that phone conversation in my head with remorse. How much of what I said set you on the path that ultimately led to your death?

I said what I did because I saw you wallowing, thrashing against what was true. You wanted what you wanted. You felt nothing for the people around you other than what they could do for you. You wanted to be pitied, to be cared for, to be the focus of attention. You took it all to the point of creating your own version of reality where you could say what you wanted and everyone would just listen. Many actually played along. You were believable. I did not believe you but pretended I did. I could see beyond the words to what you were feeling.

I spent years letting you vent until you began to manifest your fantasies. People were getting hurt. You were a train bent on crashing head on to destroy the good in your life and people around you to make a point about what you could not have. To get your way. To be happy.

Friends tended to believe rather than question you. With only one side of the story - your side - I'm sure they found it easier to agree and give you their verbal support then move on to their own lives. Your life was a side story to them. What they so casually accepted as truth fueled your fantasies.

Your downward spiral was epic. Many of your friends saw the drinking. Many saw the control issues. That day, the day I told you what I was really thinking , I saw it all. I realized that your side of all the stories could not be true. They'd grown too elaborate. They fit together too well. You were no longer calling to get clarity, you were calling to gather an army. You were going to war against your ex boyfriend. A conspiracy of your own creation pushed you to take dramatic action. Your needs were not being met. You were being taken for granted. You had done so much for him, and he had lied to you. He had taken from you. You were going to bring him down for hurting you.

The day I told you the truth I spoke from my heart. I loved you and you needed help. You needed therapy. You needed to stop drinking. You needed to see the difference between your reality and actual reality. I heard "a huhs" and "mmm's" but you did not hear me. You were already spinning my words in a new direction. It was expected. I could take being your next disappointment as long as you stopped hurting others.

I did not stop being your friend on that day. As the truth came pouring out I felt so close to you. I felt like my words might wash over you and give you insight. I felt we could take steps together to get you help. I let you know, I would be spreading the truth so all your friends could help you too. That was too much. I know it now. But you said then you understood. And the calls began. I found them. All your friends and family spread out across the country. I called contacted each and we talked about you. First they said what you'd told them, then what they knew, then they listened as I filled in the gaps and made sense of the story. At the end of each conversation I knew more about you. I had another friend pulling for you to get well. Your midnight call list grew thin as more and more of your friends chose not to listen to your drunken rants.

If you had not stopped talking to me, maybe I could have helped make sense of it all for you.I'd brought it on. I wanted to scream "ME! I did this. I know you love me. Can you see that I am doing this because I love you?"

You did much of what you said you'd do. You pushed people from your life. You turned every event into another reason for you to act and think like you did. You let the love around you turn to mud no one wanted to wade through. Loving you was a trap - one got stuck - and once stuck you had a captive audience.

Maybe our friendship ended because you wanted to send me a message. Maybe by pushing me out of your life I would somehow feel what you were feeling. You may not have been in contact with me, but I was still in contact with all your friends. They saw me as the only connection to you that was solid. I was the only person not on your list of conspirators. I was the only person you were not spinning stories about. When you spoke to friends, it was as if I vanished from your mind.

You lost everything the month's after I'd talked to you. I know now it was really your own doing, but I'd turned up the speed so you'd hit bottom faster. You were taking care of your mother in San Diego when you first attempted suicide. You family should have called me. I would have come. I wish I'd come. They put you into a clinic and you talked your way out. That makes me smile as much as it makes me sad. You were so charismatic, so persuasive. It was one of the things we all loved about you.

You used to tell me your worst fear was to have nothing, to have no one.

When you life passed before your eyes did you finally see?

You had everything.