The meaning of friendship is one of the most challenging riddles to answer. Sometimes it is a worse mystery than love. How can you define it when you've believed that something is genuine for quite a long time, then realize that you have been insensitive to the truth. 

Do we blame it on change? People change, situations change. Is it always for the betterment of everyone? Is it change that brings us apart? 

I have changed. I have been in rollercoaster ride; I have been four people in two-three years. I have learned to be strong, but I have also learned to change myself when I make mistakes. Why does a single mistake have to affect everything? Friends are supposed to see through you, to see the real you. Why can't they see I've changed and I've paid for my mistake? Why do I still have to pay for it and suffer still?

I've sworn to myself to keep silent. You don't have to fight for what you believe in anymore, you've already suffered because of it. You don't want to be tagged as a know-it-all, as a prick, as a bitch, but you are tagged still anyways.

I do not understand how people can judge, eventhough they don't know how the person is living everyday. How can friends judge when they don't understand, when they don't see you've changed. How can they not see you've changed?

Friends used to be simple, it is supposed to be. It is supposed to be one of the things that sticks with you through everything. They are the ones who are supposed to see through you, to forgive and forget mistakes, to love you and understand your flaws.

How can I wish I could be the old me again? How can I wish to be that ugly, weak girl? The girl who cuts herself, who hates herself, who lives and breathes depression? I have thrived to be stronger, I have become stronger and I've worked hard for it. My hubby has gone through storms to make me a viking, like what I've always told him we should be. But how can I not want to be that girl again? That girl everyone liked, everyone "fell inlove" with. How can I not want to be her again when all of you strike me repeatedly, hurting me to the core. I have paid for my mistake, I have asked forgiveness. 

I feel completely dismantled. I don't want to lose everything we've worked so hard for. I am really not stepping on people. 

I don't want to yearn for the pain when I cut myself -- the monstrous bliss I find in it, as if it was an answer to everything. It used to be.

I don't want to be lost again.