Status Quo Bias

​I’ve always yearned for a friendship where I didn’t have to explain myself, because I wanted you to know me in my entirety—whole and all.

I’ve always wanted that kind of closeness. I ached for the kind of familiarity that didn’t ask questions, because you already KNEW. I want to bask in the comfort of knowing that I didn’t have to explain myself, because you already knew me.

I wanted to be oblivious to everything else, even your toxic traits, because I didn’t want to start over again.

It was like playing my favourite song on repeat, even though there were so many other songs out there. I knew there might be something better, something new I could love just as deeply—but I didn’t reach for it. I stayed. Because this one was familiar. Because you were mine, or so I thought.

That’s exactly how I felt about you.

I didn’t want to start over with someone else.

I didn’t want to explain my childhood to a stranger.

I didn’t want to learn a new person’s favourite colour.

I didn’t want to figure out someone else’s love language.

I didn’t want new nicknames, new ways of being. I didn’t want new.

I just wanted you.

Even when you forgot our friendship anniversary. Even when I knew you understood the hold you had on me. You made me feel like I was the centre of your world, while I was just one of many in yours.

I stayed.

Because you meant more to me than I ever let on. Because leaving you felt harder than losing myself.

And maybe that’s why it was easy for you to keep it up.

But now, I am picking up the bruised pieces of myself. Holding the memories we shared—the ones I clung to so tightly—and finally letting them go.

Because I realised that I was holding on to an idea of you. And this version of you is someone I don’t even recognise anymore.

I love you too much to lose you.

But I love myself too much to stay.

So, this is goodbye.