...leave them alone to rot or try and make something of them.

I have a friend [using the term in what must be its loosest form] who I've known for coming up to ten years now. For the purposes of this, her name is now Deanna, because it's the name of the song I'm listening to and I'm too lazy to come up with anything more imaginative. Anyway - she joined the school in year two, I think, and it was the school I'd been going to since reception, and the register hadn't changed much until she came along, so for ages she was the shiny new toy with an accent that meant she said some things differently [I remember when some people got her to say the word "book" over and over again just to laugh at her... That was mean], and she and I became close very quickly. We stayed close for the rest of our time at that school, we moved together to a new school halfway through year five and stayed close for that, we graduated and moved up to secondary school and stayed close for that, I moved across several counties after a few years and after a crap first day at a new school I get a call to say "Guess what? We've replaced you!"

That exact moment was when I started to think: what the hell. This isn't right. Yeah, I'm a snide, self-obsessed bitch who doesn't know when to stop, but surely, by anyone's standards, that was uncalled for? I did my best to forget it and get on with my studies, but at the same time I became increasingly aware of the distance that was being placed between my 'old' friends and myself. Things that were inevitable - I can't hope to still be part of in-jokes and the like when I only see them at half term, can I? For the first year, before I found proper friends at my new school, it was okay. I went to Deanna's for new year, and then again several times over the course of last year, and every time I saw her I saw how she'd changed more and more from the girl I felt closer to than a sister for the early years of high school - and it hurt, I'm not going to lie. Maybe I was just hoping that things back home would grind to a complete halt so when I return on occasion, I don't feel like a fool trying to dance to a song I don't know amongst strangers who used to be so familiar. It's shit, going back and not recognising your own friends.

I'm trying really hard to not wallow in self-pity here... It's difficult, when I think of times when I was so excited about going back to see some people, and I get there and it's a monumental letdown. That sounds awful... I don't mean that my friends are letdowns, but they're different to the people I befriended over the course of the last fourteen odd years. Even the people I've known since the cradle - when did they get so big? I remember us freaking out together when we lost our baby teeth, and now everyone's finding out who they are, who they want to be, and it's hard to get your head round the fact that someone you thought you'd be knitting with in the nursing home has better things to do than call a friend they rarely see. I suppose, when we saw each other at school every day, there was no need to call, because we saw each other all the time, and if I did call someone then it would most likely be to ask them if they wanted to come sleep over at mine on Friday night. Now it's all, every visit has to be planned weeks in advance and, for the sake of convenience, can only really occur during a school holiday - and only two people have come to stay over here because everyone else has plans. Don't get me wrong, previous engagements are completely fair enough, but to fidget on the other end of a phone for ten minutes after I've asked if you want to come and see the house I've been living in for two years before announcing that you "don't want to... I have, uh, plans" is seriously unimpressive. I don't think it's a coincidence that the friends back home I'm generally closer to are the ones I became close to after I moved.

Anyway - Deanna. We began to drift pretty much the minute I moved away, and I didn't see what I could do to prevent it. We were growing up into people who just didn't get along as well as we did when we were younger. I'd kind of resigned myself to seeing her three or four times a year and having a huge catch up on those occasions, bond over our love of Dolly Parton and Richard Gere [and other dilfs] and rocky road and discussions about the many wonderful things about Mr Right, and just carry on that way, still friends, but not the soul sisters we were before.

Then, late last year, I got... "involved" with someone, and then early this year I messed up and then two weeks later something happened with her and the other involvee and it was all painful and messy and, I think, easily preventable, but there you go. I know what they say, friends before boys, but excuse me for feeling victimised in that particular situation. So, without going into too much detail, that exacerbated things between us to the point where, I don't know about her, but I dislike talking to and seeing her because there's too much stigma attached to her to make a meeting pleasant now. It's undeniably shit. Deanna used to be my best friend, and now, in the nicest way possible, I can't deal with her. It's reached the point where even I, the most stubborn bitch in the world, can see the ridiculousness of it all - but every time I go to call her or text her to make amends, apologise for overreacting and taking it out on her, I'm reminded of the injustice of it all. She's there, with people who mean so much to me, and they're changing and growing around each other, and I'm here, changing and growing around some amazing people I've met who, though I'm so happy I met them, are going in a different direction to the people back home, so when I go back it's like trying to fit a round peg in a square hole, and I don't know what to do about it.

This rant has been both therapeutic and, if seen by the wrong person, dangerously close to tempting the start of a third world war. Here's hoping it's not seen by the wrong person. Here's hoping I get over myself and pick up the phone. Here's hoping that whatever happens doesn't hurt any more than it has to.

Quote of the day: Even if you're on the right track, if you just sit there you're still going to get hit.