Arguably one of the most sickening feelings in the world is a fading friendship. Not the sucker-punch from behind, stab-you-in-the-back, or even moved-away friendships, but the ones that are right in front of you and more distant than your old pen pal from Ohio who you've never even met before.
Something changed. In-depth, soul-searching tirades and intent, genuine listening turned into polite conversation fillers and minimal eye contact. The unique and shared humor has almost been forgotten and the simple yet heart-felt desire to know how your day went is lost.
There's less contact in general. But the now-rare moments of contact may be worse than the absence, because that's where the distance is most noticeable. My best friend lives nearly half a country away from me, and that never made her any less the best friend I've ever had.
With this friendship, it's not crumbling, or coming to a screeching halt, but painfully and slowly slipping.
There could be a good reason for it. In fact, I have a few sound theories. But theories they shall remain unless something snaps back into place or I force it. And by force I mean ask. I guess that's really the question: is it important enough to me?
The little devil on my shoulder tells me it isn't important enough to the other party, so why should I lose sleep over it? Oh yeah, because it is important to me. My pride just wants to say I don't care. But I know I do.
In the words of Pooh Bear, "Some people care too much. I think it's called love."
I'll keep feeling this one as it slips farther and farther away. Eventually, I'll have to decide if I care enough to try and piece it back together by asking, or if I just let it fade away and hope I eventually stop caring.