As little girls, we are spoon-fed media of the life long BFF. She’s the one you meet in preschool and play house with. You learn how to use makeup with her, and soon she’s walking you through how to put a tampon in. She’s your world, and if you’re lucky, she stays that way through the rocky terrain of high school. She’s the person who you share every secret with. She’s the person you plan your future with. You make a pact to grow old together, and get houses next door to each other. You plan to have daughters at the same time so they can be best friends too. She’s your world. What TV and movies don’t prepare us for is that for many girls, the idyllic reality of a BFF gets squashed early on.
Nobody teaches girls how to handle friendship breakups. We are supposed to act like everything is okay, and are told to focus on the other friendships instead. We are supposed to keep our heads up, stay strong, and absolutely never say anything bad about the other girl. When you pass her on the street you have to pretend you don’t know her, or give her a weak smile. You have to play nice and cry in private. You are supposed to pretend that all the months of talking to each other every day never happened. You are supposed to pretend that it doesn’t hurt. You are supposed to move on, and forget her completely.
Maybe the friend breakup is easy for some people, but for me, these things have never been simple. I wake up at 4am from nightmares about what I must’ve done wrong to make her pull away from me. I go through days of extreme sadness, and days of bitter anger. Everytime I try to talk about the pain, I’m met with the same response that I need to move on. I feel guilty when I’m angry, and I can’t ignore the confusing soup of emotions in the pit of my stomach. I don’t want to hate her, and I don’t want to be a stranger. I want hugs and a million “I’m sorrys,” and worse, I want to kick and scream and make her beg for me to come back. I hate to hate her, and it’s because deep down, I could never hate her. All at the same time, I wish I never met her, and I wish we were still best friends. It’s a rollercoaster of sickening feelings that I hate to have. It’s not something I know how to talk through, because I don’t understand why it happened. It’s a lonely experience, and it leaves you wondering if they are feeling the same way too.
As I try to work through these complex emotions, I wonder about how we can throw young women into the world of friendships with no structure to discuss the mourning of losing a best friend. I stand by the sentiment that it feels like a death, except this one where you have to see the ghost of your favorite person daily. There are thousands of books and movies about getting over exes, but there isn’t much about getting over an ex-best friend. While I write this piece to hopefully help heal my own emotional wounds, I hope there is someone out there who is willing to teach a seminar on how to navigate the hardships of friendships. I wish someone would write a heartbreak song about losing your best college friend. More importantly, I wish we would all be more understanding with each other when we’re dealing with such painful emotions.
About Magdalena Saliba
Magdalena is a Co-Editor for Sex and the Crescent City, as well as a member of the photo and graphic design teams. She’s a Junior double majoring in Art History and Studio Art. She loves shopping for cool pants, watching The Sopranos over and over again, and making pasta from scratch.
Magdalena is a Co-Editor for Sex and the Crescent City, as well as a member of the photo and graphic design teams. She’s a Junior double majoring in Art History and Studio Art. She loves shopping for cool pants, watching The Sopranos over and over again, and making pasta from scratch.
