Now, don't get me wrong. They are gone. The N divorce truth serum revealed the absence of integrity and character in them. But, as always, somehow, I don't want to believe these things about them. I thought they were different. Of all the old friends, I would not have pegged them as the ones that would never question the stories they've been told. They seemed to be different. But, the narc truth serum applied to friendships is just that--the best damn truth litmus test on the market. You may hate the results, even want to challenge them umpteen bazillion times but accuracy levels are off the charts and while sometimes Time has a way of deteriorating the results, the truth is ultimately there if one is willing to face it.
And so I am facing it. I grieve once again, the loss of friendship, made more acute by the accompanying pain of wanting to reach out to those that once were familiar--those that once seemed to see me--the real me. I grieve the pain of intensely wanting to share the truth of my experience in what happened while a marriage imploded in upon the collapsed soul-less shell of a man. The haunting images of the past of what might have been--of sitting round a campfire, atop Dallas Divide, sipping a glass of wine, sharing conversation and laughter, reminiscing about the old stories of yesteryear.
Each time I have to let go in these kinds of ways, I get a little more of the sense that I am backing away from a prison that bars them in, as much as it bars me out.
