the last boy i called my friend.
For the first time in my life, i don’t have a boy for a friend. Yes, I have my husband, my safe place, my home; but that’s it.
For as long as i can remember i’ve always had boys around me. My brothers, my best friends at school, my previous boyfriends friends, the group of boys in my early 20’s, my best friend of ten years, their friends. A circle i thought was unbreakable. For years, they were my constants. My family, in the deepest, most unshakable sense. But there has been a shift lately.
My best friend of ten years, our friendship reached its natural death; and it’s sad cause along side them, was another group of boys that i had surrounded myself with, thought of as family. The day we ended, so did my past life. You were the only tether left. Once that snapped i really understood. The girl i once was is dead, i know better. My edges are sharper, my instincts keener — I have my wits about me now. I am not the girl i used to be. I can barely recognise her. I am a woman now. The years 15-23 feel like a dream, or like a book i read a while ago. Those characters aren’t in the book i’m reading now, i have built a life so far away from them, there is truly no chance of seeing them again. I don’t know who they are anymore, and they surely wouldn’t recognise me.
Today, my circle looks very different. Six women — fierce, tender, unflinching — they have become my biggest supports. They’ve embraced me down to my core, lifted me in ways i didn’t know i needed, and reflected back the woman i truly am. The power of women supporting women is something i once found foreign. Now it’s the ground i stand upon.
What i’ve come to learn is that women’s friendships are not an accessory to life like a boy is, they are life. They are the anchor, the mirror, the balm. For so long, i didn’t know the weight of that kind of bond, they way women see you not just for who you are, but for who you’re BECOMING. With them, there’s no performances and no masks. Only truth. They’ve taught me how to hold grief and joy in the same hand — cause let’s be real we have been doing this for a millennia.
They have shown me how to speak my truth without apology, and how to rest in the safety of being truly known. It is a power that feels ancient, almost holy — this sacred web of women who hold each other through every unraveling and rebirth. It’s almost poetic how our connections crystallised through the last boy i ever called a friend. Because sometimes people lie, twist narratives and paint you as the villain all because they are too weak for their own self reflection. But heres the truth: i am too grown for that, and you’re too weak for my world. A boy lets his girlfriend pull his strings; a man steps the fuck up. He’s not afraid to say, ‘Don’t you dare twist this story, don’t you dare speak to her again.’ That’s what my husband did — stood right up, called out the lies and made it clear that real men don’t play those games. That’s the difference. A man stands on business and protects the woman he loves.
Still, i can’t help ignore what boy friendships gave me. From primary school all the way until i was 23, they were always there. In my early twenties, my closest group was three guys; and i am grateful for their friendship. I am grateful for the laughs, the late nights, the way we just got each other. The way they held space for me was unlike any friendship i have had. But life…life has a way of shattering the ground under your feet.
What happened i can’t even begin to explain…even now my hands shake and sweat, my pen slides from my grip. The waves of nausea tidal over me. It’s too much. I still wonder if they understand why i had to go. It was that soul wrenching and earth shattering, it broke every part of me. Having someone take advantage of you and your body changes you. And if i’m honest that destruction to myself and the events leading to that fateful night will always haunt the evocation of those friendships. The memories are beautiful and i miss them dearly — but they’re stained, tarnished…scorned. I can’t help but only see the ominous dark clouds circling ahead. My inevitable fate. The inconsolable fear and anxiety that courses through my veins is too much. I feel it now…just thinking of it all. I miss them — but i need to protect me first.
The rain outside is pouring, it feels like she’s crying for me.
Maia, Mother Earth herself, is washing away my heartache, my pain, the anxiety, the guilt.
My connection and spirituality towards myself and the earth at my feet consumes me. My bravery, my strength; consumes the dark cloud and puts it safely to ease. The last two years have been an excavation of sorts. Grounding myself, re-rooting into the earth beneath me, and learning how to be loved again. Taking the time to re-wire my brain, understand why i am, the way i am. It has been slow, deliberate work: choosing peace over chaos, softness over survival. And in that stillness, i found my centre again.
The life i have built for myself is peaceful.
I’m sorry if i hurt you in the process.
I truly love you all — but i love me more.
Always, in the glow of Honey and Moonlight
Mon x
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