Sometimes I revisit my old livejournal to check up on friends to see if anyone is active. I had forgotten that I still had my ex added. I read part of an old chat log that she had posted a couple of months after we broke up. I internally cringed a little & stopped myself from reading any further. It has been years since I have moved on, and I feel no lingering attachment or feelings towards her. We weren't right for each other. It wasn't pleasant to read certain things but I don't exactly see any point in rehashing negative memories associated with her entries. It was simply her own way of self expression & more than likely not for my eyes anyway. I do, however want to share an excerpt from one of her many "blogs" (she liked to write) that I found to be somewhat relatable & wanted to give my own perspectives on the subject:

He had this close-bond once. We have all had such bonds once. This behavior, these actions, are not unique to only him. We have all pulled stunts like this at one time or another. We have all had bonds previously thought unbreakable, tempered perhaps from trials by fire and periods of icy apathy. Still these bonds lasted, a monument to our experiences and the connections that bind us all.

But they have slowly degenerated. Slowly, to escape our notice until one day we look back and ask ourselves what happened, and what become of those days. But we cannot answer, because we don’t want to know. We don’t want to know that we gave them up all too willingly. Perhaps a book needed to be read for class. A report handed to a higher-up. A mate to notice. Or perhaps we simply crumbled under the pressure of keeping up a facade for fear we will be rejected should our ugly natures be exposed to the harsh sunlight of reality.

Even the most jaded of us, or the most socially involved, feel this knowledge lurking. But that does not mean we know it. To know it is to admit it, and this is a dangerous feet. Admitting to oneself that we create our own misery, at least in this regard is an unbearable truth. But still that hole inside of us cannot be ignored.

And so we fill it. We fill it with whatever we can. Hollow victories won by deceit. False friendships, built on mutual benefit but little else. Possessions and costumes to wear as a display of our status. Denial that all is well, will be well, has been well. A change of residence in a vain attempt to find a home.

But we, being cursed with self-awareness, can feel the emptiness. We recognize the need. So we return to memories past, habits and situations long ago, forgotten except in the darkest of nights to curse us with just how close yet so untouchable they are. But they are the closest we know to happiness. So we return to them, but they are foreign to us now. We have grown and been tainted since those days. They are unrecognizable as they were, and are foreign so we treat them with the knowledge and insights we have developed since. But still, it is all we had, and thus they must manifest. 

To give some further context without actually linking back to her blog, this was a very much needed call out piece toward our boss. I am not going to go into detail about the event as this took place many years ago. I am only going to discuss the excerpt that I have quoted moving forward. 

It is clear her examples were heavily steeped in her own experiences, perhaps with a touch of projection. Still, it remains an interesting perspective, nonetheless. I agree with her overarching sentiment that we often create our own misery. We allow friendships to fade, we navigate the awkwardness of trying to rekindle them, and we inevitably change into people who are no longer recognizable to the ghosts still live rent-free in our heads.

I have written frequently about these "distant bonds" in the past, but where our perspectives diverge is in the aftermath. She speaks of a profound, inescapable emptiness. I don't feel that anymore.

I'll admit that in the beginning, when things were fresh, I certainly did. I even tried reaching out to her multiple times over the years, but the interactions, while amicable, were infrequent and lukewarm at best. She got married, I moved back to the USA, we lost touch, the bond simply dissolved, and that was the end of that. Looking back with the benefit of hindsight, I realize she didn't want to reconnect with the things that tied us together, and that is perfectly fine. What once felt indestructible was simply gone.

I cannot reach out to everyone whose bond I have severed, nor would I expect them to be the same people they were decades ago. This isn't a universal tragedy. I have also reconnected with old friends, and despite the passage of time, long distances, and busy lives, we get on beautifully.

As time has passed, I find myself revisiting the ghosts of severed bonds not with emptiness, but with amusement, fondness, and occasionally a fleeting regret for how things ended. Mostly, I feel blessed to have even made those wonderful memories at all. I no longer obsess over what happened or what could have been. Instead, I view these past connections as a quiet life lesson: Be kind. Cherish the friends you have, respect their boundaries and their evolution, and above all, nurture the friendships you want to keep.

Her entry was written over 14 years ago. I can't help but wonder if her own experiences have reshaped her point of view since then, just as mine have.