Open Tabs

This was originally written for a class, but it felt like the right place to start.

The hardest part about all of this is that nothing actually happened. There wasn’t a big moment, no fight, no clear ending, just a slow shift I sensed before I could explain it. Something between us was changing, how we talked, how things felt. Like I was the only one who noticed. And that was the part that made me feel the most alone.

I remember sitting on the train, watching a couple across from me. They laughed, leaned into each other, existing in a way that seemed effortless. I couldn’t stop judging them. Everything they did annoyed me. The way they talked. The way they looked at each other. All of it. Their ease made me uncomfortable, like I was watching something I didn’t have or understand. Over time, I realized it wasn’t them. I was jealous. Not just of their relationship, but of how certain they seemed, how clearly they chose each other. That’s what got to me. It made me think about Clover and wonder if they would choose me in the same way.

That’s the part I can’t really say out loud because I don’t even know what “choose me” means in this situation. We’re just friends, at least that’s what it’s supposed to be. But it never felt that simple to me. It wasn’t about wanting something more. It was just that being around them felt different from being around most people. I didn’t have to try as much or think as much about how I was coming across. I don’t know how to explain that without it sounding bigger than it actually is or like I made it all up in my head. Maybe I did.

What gets to me the most is how natural it all felt. I wasn’t overanalyzing what I was saying or wondering how I was coming across. I just felt comfortable in a way I’m not used to.

I think about the small moments now. The way we could sit in the same room in complete silence, both doing our own thing, and it didn’t feel awkward. Or how they would come into my room, lie on my bed like it was theirs too, and fall asleep without asking, like it was just understood that they could.

I don’t usually feel that comfortable around people. That’s what makes this so confusing. How can something feel so real to me and not mean the same thing to them?

I remember sending that text after not really talking all summer. It started to feel like I was the only one reaching out, the only one trying to keep things the same. I kept going back and forth about whether I should say anything at all, but eventually I couldn’t just sit with it anymore.

I stared at the message for what felt like forever before I hit send. I kept rereading it, deleting parts, adding things back in, trying to find the right way to explain something I didn’t understand myself. When I finally sent it, I felt immediate regret. Not because I didn’t mean it, but because I knew I couldn’t take it back.

They didn’t answer right away. Minutes felt like hours, and then hours turned into actual hours. It took them two full days to respond. By then, I had already convinced myself I had said too much. I kept rereading the message, wondering if it sounded like I was trying to say something I wasn’t.

When they finally responded, it wasn’t anything big. We talked about it, said what we needed to say, and promised to try to keep things the same. But they never really went back to how they were. After that, we just moved on without bringing it up again, hoping things would fall back into place.

They didn’t.

After that, everything started to feel different. It wasn’t just the text, it was the way I started noticing the distance. Conversations felt shorter, like they ended before they used to. Moments that once felt natural started to feel forced. The way I felt when I saw them with other people started to change, too, like I was watching from the outside instead of being part of it. Like I was looking through a window at something I used to be inside of. I hated how quiet I got around them. I started overthinking every little thing I said. Something that once felt so easy suddenly felt heavy, and I didn’t know how to fix it.

I don’t think they did anything wrong, and that’s what makes it harder. It would be easier if there was something to point to, something to blame, but there isn’t. It’s just me and my own thoughts and the way I tend to hold onto things longer than I should, replaying them until they feel bigger than they actually are. I think that’s what it really is. Not just missing them, but missing how it felt before I started questioning everything, before I started wondering if I cared more than they did about our friendship. I was the one reaching out more, trying to keep conversations going, trying to hold onto what we had before it started to change. And I didn’t know if they felt that same need to keep it the way it was, or if they had already moved on from it in a way I hadn’t.

And maybe that’s not even true. But it’s the thought I keep coming back to. Even after we’ve talked about it, even after time has passed, I still feel stuck in the same place, like nothing actually resolved for me.

Even now, when I see them, I still hesitate before I speak. Things feel normal on the surface, but not the way they used to. I still catch myself thinking about what I’m saying, wondering how it’s coming across, as if I’m trying to hold onto something that has already shifted.

Maybe that’s why I keep coming back to the same questions.

Do people ever truly let things go and move on, or do they just get better at pretending it doesn’t affect them anymore? Is it just me holding onto things like this? Why can’t I let it go even though we’ve talked about it? That’s the part that scares me the most.