May the bridges I burn light the way
The Year of the Snake asked me to shed more skin than I expected, with endings that almost never made a sound. I slipped out of things before I had the language to name them—habits, patterns, expectations, and most of all, people. But whether they were loud or quiet, they were all goodbyes. Some were long overdue, while others I wasn’t exactly proud of, but in the end, all of them were necessary.
I used to wait until the last minute to let people go. All year long, I would sit through built-up resentment and quiet animosity because I didn’t know when enough was enough, so I let the calendar decide for me.
The new year felt like a final buzzer to confront endings I couldn’t face in real time. Because more than patience or indecision, I was a coward. I was afraid of shaking the bridge because I didn’t know how to cross without company, and frankly, I didn’t want to. So I stood still even as the boards beneath me rotted from all the water I kept telling myself was already under the bridge.
For years, I let myself hide behind the idea that to love someone is to accept the uneven edges that come with them. As Dolly Alderton wrote in her book Everything I Know About Love, “I know what it is to love someone and accept that you can’t change certain things about them; Lauren is a grammatical pedant, Belle is messy, Sabrina’s texts are incessant, AJ will never reply to me, Farly will always be moody when tired or hungry. And I know how liberating it feels to be loved and accepted for my flaws in return.”
I read her book at 18 and held on to her words for as long as my aching hands could because she was right. Every relationship is stitched together with its own imperfections; most of the time, it’s the contrast that creates the chemistry. All this was true until there came a time when the flaws I welcomed began to narrow the bridge, until crossing required so much caution that I was only standing still and no longer moving forward.
The flaws, mistakes and misunderstandings became more than edges but measures of how much I was willing to endure in the name of friendship, for the sake of companionship.
The people who used to celebrate my depth began to flinch at it. I was now too much, and being friends with me was “like walking on eggshells.” Boundaries were mistaken for attacks, and accountability was welcomed only when it flowed one way.
The flaws, mistakes, and misunderstandings became more than edges but measures of how much I was willing to endure in the name of friendship, for the sake of companionship.
I was insulted by people I praised; I welcomed their flaws while mine weren’t granted grace.
Trust was traded for gossip, and history was used as ammunition.
Women who were once my moral compass began to speak in the language they condemned. The values we once shared withered into words and ideas I could no longer recognize.
But in the end, what unsettled me most was how the same behaviors they excused in themselves became unforgivable when mirrored back to them.
Along the way, I realized that I no longer liked the people I loved, and one is so difficult without the other. It was more than growing apart; it was clutching the memories, hoping for a flicker of recognition of the person I used to love, to linger a little longer than I should. Because some friendships don’t end in collapse. They simply stop leading you anywhere.
And yet life kept moving, indifferent to the hollow spaces it left behind. College started and inseparable friends were divided by regions, cities, and ideologies. We made our promises, went on our own ways, and chased different paths, without knowing that distance would reveal the fragility of bonds we once thought unbreakable. Now the only question was whether to move along or stay tethered to what was already halfway gone.
So I gathered all my courage, walked away with trembling knees, and watched as the bridges came tumbling down.
Deep down, I knew I couldn’t change the people around me, so I changed the people around me. I decided that I don’t want to spend another second of my life enduring what asks me to remain on bridges that can’t hold my weight.
I walked away and realized how easy it was to leave and how it liberated me from everything and everyone that no longer served me. And along the way, I forgave. I forgave people and I forgave myself. But I will never forget, because I owe it to myself to remember. For all the times that I have forgotten that I am my oldest friend, the home I carry with me, the harbor when bridges fall, and the quiet place I always return to.
To say I had no fault is to lie. I had burned bridges with impatience and pride, and I had uttered words I will never be able to take back. I have loved blindly and measuredly. I had stayed meek when I should have had the courage to speak. And yet in those mistakes, I found pieces of myself I could have only discovered by letting go.
Now the year has passed, and I look back and see all the bridges I’ve burned, and I can only hope that the fire they had caught will light the road away.
