We’ve been together for a long time. You’ve been my friend for about as long as I can remember. We played with Hot Wheels together. We supported the original Dream Team together. We even experienced Jurassic Park together. There was that time when I wanted to spend so much time with you, my parents forced me to hang out with you, hoping I’d get tired of your company. It didn’t work. Lately you’ve been around to meet both of my kids — and they love you. Especially the 3-year-old. She adores you. And part of me still adores you, too.
I remember when you were there for me when it seemed like no one else was. Those last few years of college were especially tough on me, and you were waiting for me every day. Never judging, always faithful. In fact, just about anytime my life has been at its most stressful you’ve been there for me. I’ve always appreciated that about you.
But I have to say this — and I’ve been meaning to, wanting to, for a long time: I think it’s best if we stop being friends. All those times we spent together, I now realize you weren’t really being a good friend. You were just being a crutch. Your comfort was nice in the moment, but I’m now recognizing it often left me feeling even more hollow — which is ironic, because you were almost always filling.
So, Old Friend, I can’t rely on you anymore. I wish I could say “it’s not you, it’s me,” but that wouldn’t be fair. It’s both of us. You’ve facilitated my addiction and poisoned me for long enough, and I can’t allow you to be an influence in my life anymore. And now that I’m the gatekeeper for most everything my children eat, I most certainly don’t want you to be an influence in their lives anymore than you already have. Leaving you in the past won’t be an easy task, I know, and I know if I try to come running back, you’ll welcome me with open arms. That’s why I have to make this clean break. That’s why I have to make better choices. It’s over, and I don’t want to see you anymore.
And so it has come to this: Goodbye, Old Friend. I know you’ll be fine without me. I know I’ll be a lot better without you.