A journal entry.
So I said no. I did the right thing for me. And I am so proud of myself for that. I am so proud of myself for the ways in which I am learning and growing and changing. This is (and feels) miraculous at some level.
And it’s more than this.

I don’t think we can be friends. But perhaps I am projecting, too. It’s a strange place that we have come to. To feel like you know someone well, and (perhaps) vice-versa, whilst understanding that in many ways you do not know them at all.
I can no longer lie to myself about what I want. I can no longer deny myself my right *to* want. I am allowed to want. I am allowed to have. I am allowed to break free.
I am allowed to radically re-assess everything I thought I knew.
When I say, “I don’t think we can be friends”, what do I really mean? It’s not about love or sex or even attachment. It’s about the nature of the connection that we share. We are not just friends. Or perhaps I just haven’t had enough frie…
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