I still wonder why I wasn’t worth it for him. He called me one of his best friends and I thought the same of him. I extended my hand when he needed it. It was never the hand he wanted, but time and time again I put it out there for him. I care about him; I loved him (as I do all my friends).
I know some people are just assholes and don’t care who they have to step on so long as they don’t get hurt. I am not one of those people. I know I’m better than him, if only because I don’t use my friends as stepping stools. I’m past him.
I don’t wonder why I wasn’t worth because I’m still hurting. I wonder because I don’t know how much I’m worth to new friends (and old for that matter). I know its classic over-thinking for me. But if I wasn’t worth it once, I won’t be again. To feel like one of my closest friends is slowly stabbing me in the back is depression inducing. It truly is haunting. I’d rather die than have to face that again.
I know that not everyone is like that and that its either I have no friends or be in the same situation again one day. I need to let sleeping dogs die. I need to get over it and stop causing this to be harder than it is.