Update 2:
Update 1 was genuine, not a joke. I genuinely, angrily came back to this post to edit that I was "over it" despite not even being close to being over it. It's funny how I can tell you exactly what I'm going to do like a script, yet have no control over it.
Update:
OVER IT.
Original post:
It took a day or so for the emotional fallout of this event to fully kick in; the first reaction was a disturbing apathetic response not dissimilar to the one I got when my mum came into my room in 2015 and told me my grandpa had passed away. I felt I should feel more, yet I didn't. Numbness or apathy, it felt wrong to feel so little outward emotion.
The coming weeks and months after Pa died were filled with sudden onsets of emotions, grief, anger. All of it at once, hitting me like a freight train at full speed, at seemingly random times. 'Losing' Maik echoes this; and even now, I don't fully feel the emotional response I think I should.
Yet.
But it's slowly trickling down into my everyday. That is, I'll stop and think about him for a while. He'll occupy my mind for a few minutes and I'll feel the 'pang' of grief hit me for a few moments, then my mind will drift onto something else as usual. The distance between these episodes has remained relatively consistent over the last 24 hours, honestly.
I put 'losing' in inverted commas mainly because Maik isn't truly lost, he's alive and (I hope) well, but the same cannot be said for our friendship. I am not going into details here, but Maik no longer wants to be my friend and honestly, I don't blame him.
I don't feel the need to set any records straight, I've long since stopped caring about that with regards to my inability to sustain interpersonal relationships (BPD, Autism), but in Maik's defence, I became obsessed with him to an extreme degree and it was unhealthy for both of us. My inner psyche will continue to produce knee-jerk attacks against him, or others he was friends with, but for what it's worth, these are emotional coping mechanisms. The grief has to go somewhere, and it's soothing to blame someone else for all my issues.
I won't go into the details about my relationship with him, but for the time we had, he was incredibly supportive of me, and incredibly resilient of my bullshit. I took him for granted on many occasions, and as I've said previously; you only truly know and appreciate people in your life once you've lost them.
So where does the emotion go? Even as I type this I feel the need to attack him and blame him for 'abandoning' me. I want to blame his new friends for taking him away from me. I want to type all that, and fill myself with bitter resentment. But if there's one thing that I can benefit from this apathy, it's that within the eye of the storm - I can see somewhat clearly.
Maik was truly special to me. Truly. I don't think he truly appreciated how special he was.
But, as is always the case, life goes on.
I want this post to 'wrap up' this episode of my life, but I know it likely won't. I know I'll revisit this topic in the future, potentially with some warped agenda about how it's all Maik's fault, or his friends, when in reality, I only have myself to blame.
Blaming myself isn't necessarily the best option, a compromise with self-reflection vs emotional outburst would be to state that I blame the mental health crisis I find myself in, in recent years. The turmoil of emotions that shapes how I behave in essentially every aspect of my life. This is what I blame.
Sash wants friends, Sash longs for friendship and companionship. Saying otherwise is a way to take control from the issues that isolate me from people. Saying "I don't want friends" gives me the control. It's comforting.
It's a comforting lie.