On Sunday, I came to the conclusion that I'm a very shitty friend. I wish this was an exaggeration for narrative effect, and at the end of this, you would wonder why I even said that. But nope. I'm pretty sure I'm right. One of my closest friends offended me one too many times, and I made the executive and poorly thought-out decision to give them space without addressing what it was that they did to me. It worked for a while. I would see them in spaces with all my other friends and be cordial, but not too friendly. I would make my usual jokes, but none directed at this friend. At this point, I think we should call them "Chi". Chi and I have always had a sort of explosive friendship. We would laugh really hard and argue just as hard—long, often unending arguments that made every unfortunate observer wonder whether we would ever reach resolution. Sometimes we did, but sometimes, we would end our vocal sparring tired, breathless, and hungry—for food and the feeling of being right. I guess I should have known that there was a bigger problem when Chi didn't push back. Typically, when we fought like this and one party withdrew into their shell, the other would be right there trying to fix whatever issue there was. This time, however, there was radio silence. My decision crystallized into diamond, and I felt unshakeable in my conviction to end the friendship that "obviously" wasn't serving me well. I didn't budge, at least not at first, not even when our mutual friends tried to get me to. "You guys are making things weird", they would say. "I'm not even sure Chi knows what she did to you. At least tell her." Even with all the external pressure, change only came when I decided that I was done living with the heaviness in my chest. I felt like it would let up once I told Chi why I made the decision I made. So, on Sunday, after we had laughed about a slightly moronic thing I did, I sprung up the conversation. I'm not truly sure why I did. To be honest, until I started talking about it, I didn't know what I wanted to say. According to Chi, I ambushed her. I think my timing was providence. Because I didn't give any heads-up about a heavy conversation, there were no walls on Chi's end (or mine). You would think that this is the point where I'd tell you what Chi did to me, and you'd make your judgments as if this were a post on Reddit's AITA forum, but no. Not today, not in this post. I gave Chi my laundry list of tiny, insignificant things she did that piled up into this giant ball of hurt, and she mainly sat quietly, apologising intermittently, and arguing only where she felt like the facts were a little sketchy. By the end of my list, I decided it was her turn to speak. She was quiet for a while. "I'm not sure what you want me to say", she said. "I don't have a prepared list like you do". I told her it didn't matter, and that all I wanted was resolution. Steadily, like rocks in an avalanche, the truth tumbled out. Somewhere amid the time when I decided to start pulling away, Chi's dad died. It was not a peaceful one, and she watched the light fade from his eyes as she held him in her arms. Immediately after, she had to travel to bury him, making the arrangements and taking the occasional 5 minutes to mourn the man she lost. In the time after this, I called her three times, and she bawled on the phone most of the time. I wasn't sure how to comfort her, and somewhere deep down, I didn't think it was my job anymore. Chi lives a 10-minute walk away from my home. I never visited, not even after she returned from burying her dad, not even when I saw her social media littered with dirges. She picked up her broken pieces and put them together by herself, and decided that the only people who mattered were the ones who stayed with her during the worst times of her life. By the time she was done speaking, I was silent and ashamed. Before I started speaking, I thought I had righteous anger, a valid reason for my stupid decision. But by the end, I knew I had done irreparable damage to someone I once professed to love. I couldn't cry. How did I dare mourn a relationship I brought to ruin with my bare hands? How could I find a way back to her heart when I razed the bridge so thoroughly? Chi had mourned already, both her dad and me, and this conversation was like picking at the scabs of a wound that she had tried so desperately to heal. Chi is a much better person than I am. "I can't promise you that we'll be better instantly", she said in the wake of my incessant and insufficient apologies. "I can only tell you that I left the door slightly ajar for you, and to walk through it, you'd have to do all the work". Chi, if you're reading this, you know that I'm clearly not very good at the work. However, I promise that I will try, and I will fight, until you're ready to fully let me back in. I love you. Thank you.