It’s funny how both my parents questioned my value for the friendship I’ve had with a group of people I once treated like siblings of my own.
After I’ve explained everything to them, they tried to contradict me. Of course, it was understandable. If I was in their position, and I knew that my son did have good times with his old friends back then, I’d tell him he’s wrong.
But I knew I wasn’t. I’ve tried enough to tell myself NOW that I’m done, that it’s perfectly reasonable for me to care less and be more passive about it. They said it themselves, “we’re old”.
It’s about time we got over the small things, and I’m not saying this in a bitter way. I’m saying this in a realistic way, because this is almost the same way how I swallowed my pride when I tried all I could to reach out to them and have some of their time.
I wouldn’t blame my parents for looking at me like it’s easy for me to “throw away” the relationship. It’s simply because they don’t know the depth of the story (not to mention how complicated my thoughts get when I feel emotional and sensitive).
But I know what I’m doing. It’s about goddamn time I knew, anyways.