Confessions of a libra

Mirage | Credit: Here

28.07.25

How do you process that everything you thought was true about someone you loved, was simply a curation of their making? That you fed into the delusion, by daring to believe someone at their word. I am currently processing what it means to have fortified what I thought was a friendship, a deep soul bond – with nothing more than an illusion of grandeur. That someone would curate whole stories, and revisit them like trophies – except they probably never happened. Not really. Maybe little snippets, probably very boring snippets at that. Let me paint you an archetype of person we are going to dissect. The kind of person to call themselves my ‘sister’ when in actuality they were doing some combination of mimicry and performance.

Ten years of friendship might not mean much to you who have grown up in the same place your whole lives and have friends from crèche, but to me it is. I have moved around so much my entire life, you could fill several pages with my previous residential addresses. So to lose someone I met as an adult, and thought I had built a conscious relationship with, is more disappointing than anything. I feel like a deflated marionette. From here on, we refer to the person in question as the Woman-in-progress.

I genuinely never thought ahead as to how our friendship would end. In my mind it was a done deal. I had begun the sisterhood I had always wanted. From there I could build from these foundations and make larger community. When we spoke about the future, we always spoke of our plans intertwined. I didn’t know then, what I know now. That I was dreaming of building a life with someone trying to play optical chess with me. Someone who convinced me in their performance, that we were one and the same. The Woman-in-progress, who watched me out lies and inconsistencies in other friends.

She sat there and comforted me while I spilled my guts out, talking about betrayal. I cried to her that all I wanted was honesty in people. She often agreed, evidently to appease me. This year, a natural momentum overtook my life. I felt a sea-change was upon me. Yet in my mind, we entered this year with a joint understanding. We were working on the same creative projects going into the year. As usual I shared my every thought, my plans and dreams. We spent time together. Maybe a month and a half. During that time, I thought we were both present and everything was above board.

Well around that time, I got invested in doing my little tests on ChatGPT. I was trying to understand AI for myself, no longer from a place of listening to anecdotes. When she returned home, I was busy. Between my creative projects, my health appointments and my naps – I didn’t chase her as I usually would. We would normally speak on a regular basis despite being long-distance. Typically, she was the quiet one between us. She was the one who used her ADHD and general ‘busy-ness’ as to why she would just go dark.

My role in the friendship, unofficially was to be the bridge. To keep the flames fanned so to speak. This year, I just didn’t really follow up as much as I could have. It began incidentally, then it was comfortable. They say distance makes the heart grow fonder, but in this case, the heart grew distant enough for objectivity. Then I had a dream. A dream wherein I save the Woman-in-progress from a psychic attack in the astral. The being/entity I was fighting looked like a girl possibly teenaged, but I recall in the dream knowing that I had to deprogram the Woman-in-progress. She was in danger, and as bestie it felt like my sacred duty to save her.

What I am about to say, I only know now in retrospect through divination. That dream wasn’t symbolic. That dream was me actually saving her from a psychic attack. But in the process, I may have removed some of the glamour between us. I didn’t know this at the time. I woke up and communed with the ancestors. They confirmed the dream was real and that I was successful in helping my ‘friend’. I messaged her, something heartfelt about how I had stayed away to give her space, but if she was going through something then I may have already helped her. She thanked me and said she listened to my advice. All of a sudden after over a month of unexplained silences and strange behaviour, my post-dream revelations had her speaking to me again. Like I mattered. Like we were just regular old besties.

Something didn’t feel right this time. I immediately clocked this tone shift. Suddenly, she was all cheery and vulnerable, when she had kept her psychic struggles from me for weeks. All she had said is that her head was too scrambled to explain. I realised that it was not the first time in our friendship I had been patient about vagueness from her. But it was the first time, I judged her lack of vulnerability with me. She knew my value system. In our friendship, I brought everything to her. Not because I had to, but because that is the agreement we had as best friends. Time and time again, I had excused her secrecy. She always threw things about being a private person, a perfect scapegoat for fuckery you don’t want to explain.

I didn’t say anything when I clocked the performance this time, but her hooks had well and truly loosened. How many times had I consulted her when I was unusure, yet she acted like I demanded perfection from her. I demanded only truth, and that she couldn’t give me until I extracted it from her. Again. She had another habit of needing me to extract information from her. Maybe she got some sort of sick pleasure from it. Either way, that one moment made me think about how many things she might have kept from me. I was genuinely struggling to understand, what about this issue she was going through for months, was too hard to explain to me her best friend. I searched for a reasonable, logical explanation and came up with nothing. The imbalance was logged. And once I see something, I cannot unsee it.

I have explained before the process I go through when I start dissecting people. I know I had swallowed a lot of inconsistencies from the Woman-in-progress because I believed in her. I believed in her goodness. I believed that we were cut from the same cloth. Quick sidenote. The irony of this situation? The Woman-in-progress and I spoke for YEARS about being able to write about the people we meet. We had met some interesting characters over the years and she claimed to be writer. But she claimed a lot things. While we made those plans, I meant every single one. So this blog post, is something we prophesied between us before she ever realised she could fall from grace.

I once said in a previous blog post ‘once I smell something unforgivable, I open the file’. The file I have of everything someone has ever told me, that is sits in the closet of my mind. Once I was questioning the validity of our so-called best friendship, I took out that file and with a decade’s worth of information –  it was thick and dusty. Well one thing I have always told my friends and lovers alike is, I hate lies by omission. A lie, is a lie, is a lie. This is something about I had always forgiven her for. Despite the fact that I normally held this as a strong boundary. I didn’t think she outright lied to me, but I knew for certain she held onto information like it was her full time job.

The psychic attack actually wasn’t random. It was someone I knew she had been dealing with, but I thought she had killed all access. Instead, she was playing power games by allowing this person to be able to contact her. Thereby siphoning her energy. That’s a red flag to me, as someone who cares about my boundaries. I would have never knowingly let someone fuck with me spiritually like that. Honestly the block button would have served a lot, outside of protection wards. I felt betrayed that she didn’t come to me with this. That she had ever allowed this individual to fuck her shit so much. In my dream, she was nothing like the powerful witch I thought her to be. She was merely a victim in that moment. Maybe not that similar to how she would detest to be seen in real life.

So, she lied by not expressing the depths of fuckery she was embroiled in. I know if it were me, I would have gone to her 100%. In my mind, if I am not your trusted person then who is? And if you are lying to me about that, then what else are you lying to me about? It took one horrific thought, and I knew I would never come back from this. For those following this blog, you know I have mentioned the Sociopathic Blonde Scorpio who is basically my arch nemesis? Well, if my Woman-in-progress here could withhold such crucial information from me, is it possible she has weaponised how I feel about our common enemy.

Not to absolve the Sociopathic Blonde because I know psychically that my read is correct. However, two truths can co-exist. It is possible the Blonde was a terrible friend. It is also possible that the Woman-in-progress I had been friends with for years had mischaracterised some things for her benefit. THAT is the thought that made my blood run cold. The idea that this woman could weaponise another woman against me, is completely against my principles as a person! The sad part was I immediately had an idea what she would weaponise if anything. The Blonde Scorpio’s sexuality.

It was an easy target. The Blonde was the typical White standard of beauty. My so-called friend has a Virgo Mars, which if unevolved can be sexually repressed. She liked to parade herself to be a sexual savant and in our decade of friendship she never introduced a boy or man to me once. I can’t remember her having made out with anyone during the course of our friendship. Maybe me that one time. Just stories, mainly from High School. Even then, in retrospect it was like a couple of scenes with one boy, that she was apparently obsessed with.

Her stories of teenagehood were wild; filled with sex, drugs and rock n’ roll. My teenage life seemed to pale in comparison. I was veritably stuck up, for the tales she wove. I can’t even remember a successful flirtation in front of my very eyes. What I heard mostly were fanciful tales of Tumblr-based BDSM knowledge. Funnily enough, she introduced me to some of the edgier things I have written about like knife play. Yet, I don’t know that she would actually do anything edgy when push comes to shove. I used to believe that she was edgy, because she played into it in her fashion and photos. But it was all curated, darling. Even her edginess was in progress.

She had a half-finished stick and poke tattoo, meant to say surrender. My ancestors said, the fact that she didn’t finish the tattoo means she never surrendered. For all the wild tales of youth, I ended up with more tattoos than her. And I never postured about being edgy. I was honest that at some point, I never even thought I would have tattoos. I looked down on people with them, because I was parroting what I had heard in my environment. Another thing I unearthed since I’ve had the space and time, having excommunicated her from my life – is she could regurgitate deep concepts really well. I believe I probably overestimated her intelligence because of it.

She out-read me most years we’ve been friends. I always thought she had an impeccable taste in books. I remember telling everyone that she explained String Theory to me, because I said that was something I had always wanted to understand. However, knowing information isn’t the same as integrating it. This is where our core values just did not align. I’m disappointed that for years, this person chose the appearance and jargon of friendship while silently picking and choosing what parts of her I was allowed to know. Constant reports of her being busy or having projects but getting the sense that she didn’t really do much. Many of our failed projects failed because she couldn’t be bothered. I would have been too nice to say that throughout our friendship.

She liked talking about our success, I wanted to live it. As such, we have had to part ways. I can’t live on the fumes of fancy. I’m not in High School and it does nothing for me to dream and dream and dream again. I had patience with school she didn’t finish or jobs I organised for her that she treated flippantly. All I wanted back, was for her to give a fuck. For authenticity. Now I have the burden of rewriting the last 10 years in my mind, because while I thought we were laying foundations, she was smearing shit behind my back.

All the times, she chose not to be honest when she was jealous. All the schadenfreude, every time I had a loss, because then it evened the playing field for a little bit. Obsessed with not being the sidekick but behaving like one. The one time her mask slipped is because she chose to get absolutely wasted with an ex-friend of mine. She would refuse to get drunk with me so when she got drunk that day, I could have never foreseen it. I think I got a glimpse into her teenage self, maybe some of the wildness she had spoken of. But it wasn’t cute, it was feral. And she made sure to tighten the mask after that.

Instead of competing with me, or wanting to gain experience points through sheer proximity, I hope her and others like her can learn to work for their own. You can dream about being a rich man’s wife all you want, while you chase your own dreams. Every room we went in she was thinking about who noticed who first. Over the years I never mentioned the body checking I saw her do. And here I was just trying to be present with friend. Trying to be vulnerable.

I have driven this Woman-in-progress to hospital in the wee hours while sick myself. I would have done it 100 times over. I have fed her lovingly. Flew her in to see me this year. Spoiled her every chance I could, because that is the depth of MY love. I release this friendship in order to allow new soul-aligned friendships. I release any shame surrounding my being in this friendship at all. I honour that what I believed to be a shared history is merely my remembrance and a lot of fog. Thank you to everyone who has read this far. May your friendships be transparent, deep and vulnerable. You deserve the best. Asé.