Bloodsport '17

Third part of my writing challenge.

It was a public execution. Simple and barbaric. I stared in disbelief as the blood of my severed friendships stagnated on the screen of my phone. There had been no trial, no chance to plead my case, just a simple and decisive final blow.

“You have been removed from this group chat by…”

The direct architect of my demise is irrelevant. This particular judgement doesn’t feel like an impulsive move by one character but rather one that has been considered by the collective jurors. That’s perhaps why it feels so cloak and dagger, so much of a betrayal. I bet they had a group chat without me, aptly named something like “What should we do about Jay?”. This thought sickens me. Even though, truthfully, I’m not sure I can blame them. I have been a little absent from their lives, in many ways I was already removed from the group. Right now though, in this moment, that fact doesn’t make the hurt any less vivid.

I imagine all of them, perched at one of the many tables around which we used to put the world to rights. They are all laughing, it’s jovial. They play eenie-meenie to decide who gets to hit the button. They drink to my memory and then continue about their evening, as if I was but a tiny part to play in it. Perhaps that thought forms part of the problem, maybe I mean more to them than I give myself credit for. 

I lay my phone down onto the arm of the sofa, considering so many things at once. Are they trying to provoke a response? Do they want me to beg forgiveness? Should I bite? Are they drunk? Or even worse, sober? Is this the end of years of friendship or just a bump along the way? I have no idea. The only thing I know for certain is what they’ll blame for my recent shortcomings. My relationship. The only perfect thing i’ve ever known. It would be easy to see why, from their perspective, it could be the cause. I certainly have had less time to play football, to party and even to play games. That however has been a decision I made without my new found love, I’ve been trying to better myself and it kills me that this is the price I pay for it. 

I don’t know wether to be angry or relieved. If i’m such a terrible friend, perhaps it’s best to just not have any at all? That way I can’t get it wrong. I don’t have to try and find the impossible balance. Maybe there’s an app where I could meet like-minded new friends? Friends that are content with only seeing each other once a month. My thoughts are getting more ridiculous by the second, I can feel a familiar feeling boiling inside of me. One that I have felt far too many times, as soon as the world gets serious. It has been caused by many things, fallouts, unexpected bills, daunting opportunities. It can only be described as a sudden urge to bury my head under the sand. 

With that sudden feeling, I delete the group chat from my phone and throw it down onto my living room table. A table that hasn’t yet been blessed with their presence. I pick my guitar back up and strum away. 

**You’ve got a friend in me… You’ve got a friend in me..**

Author's Note

My least favourite so far. Sometimes it's difficult to externalise an internal monologue.