Olive Branch

It’s been nearly a year since I lost my mind.


I sat on my squishy bed with my laptop in hand, scrolling through a public file of your comments and replies, none of which were responses to me. I was


So I hid myself from you the best way I knew how, in plain sight. Running away from friendship like a soccer player running the cooper I was,


Or confused rather, that my definition of friendship had so many characteristics of you. How could the bar be set so high and low at the same time?

It’s been nearly a year since I lost my mind.


I sat holding my phone on your birthday. I had so much to say, but no heart to say it. I wasn’t ready to celebrate you. I had unresolved feelings, mismanaged pain, yet I was


with good memories of you. Yes, good ones, but still I was so mad. The hardest thing about finished friendships isn’t the end, but the reminders. Like a


child refusing to nap, I pushed thoughts of you to the side. I wanted an apology, an explanation, but admittedly I wanted my friend back.

It’s been nearly a year since I lost my mind.


with the fact you didn’t cross it as much anymore I was moving on. Is this what they call “growing up”? Moving forward as if nothing happened, with false ideas of forgiveness? I was


only time could heal and surely it did. But when both time and distance are involved, sometimes they work against each other. My fondness for you, friend, never quite left, but it left me


and reconciliation ready. My fruits of forgiveness were ripe and I was fit to hand over the olive branch I tried to crush a year ago with my pride.

It’s been nearly a year since I lost my mind,

And today, I found it,

in the healing space between you and I,

in your harmonious hands,

in my best friend,

and I’m so thankful for you.

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