By Liam Ross
April 23, 2025
There’s a kind of tension that builds when you’re not sure if you’re standing at the edge of something or if you’ve been stuck at the same spot for too long.
That’s how it feels with her. My best friend. She’s the one who gets my weird jokes, who knows exactly what I’m thinking with just a look. We’ve been through a lot together—too much to just call it friendship. But right now? Right now, everything feels… fragile. Like it’s all about to crack if I move too fast.
She just broke up with him. Her boyfriend. The one she’d been with for what felt like forever. The one who, for some reason, was never good enough for her. He had issues with his family—nothing she could fix, no matter how much she wanted to. But every time I saw her with him, I felt this odd, aching distance, like she wasn’t fully there.
I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but I think I’ve always known. There’s been something simmering under the surface for a while now. But when she came to me after the breakup, all teary-eyed, trying to be strong but failing, something inside me shifted.
“You know, I might’ve liked you back in the day,” she joked, tossing me a grin that was half-mischief, half-sadness. “But now, I’m just… I don’t know what I want.”
And that hit me harder than anything. She said it like it was a casual thought, like a throwaway line. But I felt it, deep down. Those words weren’t just a joke. They were a crack in the wall, and I could see it for what it was: an opening.
But then she’d sigh, and it was back to her usual self, laughing at herself like it was nothing. “Anyway,” she’d add quickly, “I still love him, you know. Even with everything. He’s my person.”
And just like that, my heart would drop, and I’d remember why I’ve been stuck here for so long: She’s still in love with him.
It’s torture, honestly. Being her best friend, being the one she calls in the middle of the night when she needs someone, when she’s crying because of him. I want to be the guy who makes her smile again, the guy who can wipe away her tears, but I can’t. I’m just… the friend. The one who listens, who gives advice that I know she won’t follow.
I wish I could tell her how I feel. Tell her that when she says she loves him, it makes me feel like I’m standing on the sidelines of my own life, watching her love someone else. But what would I say? What if it ruined everything? What if I lose her, even as a friend?
It’s the worst kind of silence—the one that’s filled with all the words you don’t say. The ones you keep hidden, tucked away like they don’t matter. But they do matter. I don’t know how much longer I can pretend they don’t.
Maybe that’s why I’ve started holding on to these jokes. Maybe I’m waiting for her to mean it when she says it, to see if she’ll finally see me the way I see her. But in the back of my mind, I know it’s a gamble.
She still loves him. And no matter how many times she jokes about liking me back, I know I’m just a placeholder. A distraction.
Maybe someday, when the timing’s right, we’ll find a way back to each other. But for now, I’m stuck in between—caught in the lines of friendship and something more I can’t have.
