Hey guys, so this whole situation from my perspective has been happening for about two and half years now but has some backstory to all of it. I've had this on my mind for awhile now and I'm going to apologize in advance as this is going to be long... It involves me and my two best friends, who I consider to be my brothers. Mark and Ken. We have all been friends for the last 17 years. We are now in our early to mid twenties. Honestly I've felt we've been inseparable. I know, I know the same old cliche, thinking friends will forever be friends. I believed this. I believed that even after all the bullshit, we would all still be friends and be there for each other. I've recently come to the realization that I was wrong.




The three of us were inseparable. We damn near saw each other everyday and that was even after high school. We continued to be a close trio. Out of the group, I was the only one that had a girlfriend. She ended up being a larger part of my life than I could've imagined. I cared about her, a lot. I loved her. This was about three, maybe four years ago. I was working full time, had a long term girlfriend I saw regularly, and still maintained my close friendships because that was when they were struggling the most. I felt I was there for them. I did my best to be the best friend I ever could. I had Mark who was struggling with depression and seeing a counselor about his life. He had a rough upbringing and my home was his safe haven. He was always welcome, day or night, didn't matter. As much as I urged and tried to help prevent the inevitable, he ended up on antidepressants. Now I have no problem with antidepressants when someone needs them, but I also don't see them as a fix for depression. Mark wasn't suicidal, only lost. His counselor felt antidepressants necessary. I supported Mark in everything he did, understanding that the last thing he needs to hear is my opinion. I was simply there for him and provided information and opinions when he asked. I've been through therapy, many times. As of today I've seen five separate therapists. The last one worked. Now, Ken was dealing with his own problems. He was going through some fairly severe health complications. When you go though health problems at a young age you see real fast who's worth keeping around. He was a moderately popular guy in his neighborhood and was in high school. He had a large circle of people he would hang with outside our trio. But after getting really sick all he had was his immediate family, Mark, and me of course. It was a rude awakening for Ken. To see so many "friends" disappearing without a second thought. Ken and I could empathize on a deep level as I went though very severe health complications myself, but a few years prior, during my sophomore year in high school. I understand that pain. The pain of isolation and feeling completely alienated over something you have no control over. Heartbreaking really. I felt these bonds, where we could empathize with one another, only strengthened our friendships. A couple years passed. Jobs came and went. My girlfriend and I had our fights and demonstrated our love. I was preparing for college. Got Mark off antidepressants and working full time. Ken was working part time and was attending college. Life was... Stable. Then an opportunity arises for all of us. An opportunity to provide service for those who need it. Essentially a service deployment. Commitment of a couple years but could always be cut short for whatever reason. It was still volunteer work. We all decided we should go. Ken left first. We saw him off and we were all excited and happy for him. I was to leave next but decided no I'm not going to go. I wasn't going to leave my girlfriend of three years. She was supportive of me but I could see in her eyes she couldn't let me go. I stayed and Mark left about a year after Ken due to fucking up his knee in a snowboarding accident. It was right before they got home when everything started to go wrong.




About a year and three months after Mark left, and two months before Ken got home, my girlfriend of five years broke my heart. It was the end of a legacy. It absolutely and unequivocally destroyed me as a human being. I couldn't sleep. I didn't eat. I was on autopilot. My parents didn't know I was dating this girl and what just happened to me. I told my Dad but for some reason he was convinced I was doing drugs. I had run ins with weed in high school and stuff and still used recreationally here and there. My parents are very conservative and assumed I was doing a lot of drugs and fucking up my life. This wasn't true. Yet. Feeling like I had no safe place to go, I started to learn how to hang out with myself. Always having someone to be around for years and years, I had to relearn how to be alone. It was late winter at the time and after getting through work I would go find a parking lot and hang out by myself. I would sit in the car for hours waiting for the sun to go down. Just wishing I had anyone to talk to. This is when my weed use started to increase drastically. Not just weed use. I was in full on self destruct mode. I took any drug I got my hands on. Opiates, Xanax, Molly, LSD, DMT, etc. I'll be honest, in hindsight this probably wasn't the best idea. But I was lost and didn't give a fuck. From my perspective I had nothing. The drugs numbed the pain but at the cost of my health and sanity. This pattern continued for a couple weeks. Until finally, my boss, pulls me aside and asks, "What's wrong?" I realized that's all I needed. Was that glimpse of reality. Someone to care. My boss explained he noticed a scary change in my behavior and was very worried I was making choices I would regret. He told me everyone at work was suspicious of me being on drugs, him included. I was honest with him. I told him what happened and just how lost I felt. He provided sympathy and love. A surprise to me. He pushed me to change for the better and kept me employed. To demonstrate how admirable my boss is, I worked a government job. Even with the honesty he had hope in me to become better. A welcome change. I'll be forever grateful. I started making changes in the right direction. But while all that was going on, Ken had already arrived home. And my parents very clearly told everyone I was a drug addict and was slipping into the abyss. This burned a lot of bridges for me. And unfortunately, it affected my relationship with Ken. I saw him once. It was during my darkest moments. The drugs had ravaged my body. My face sunken in and my skin, dull and pale. Devoid of life or spirit. Ken did not wish to see me again after that. This is the start of losing hope.




My friends knew what happened with me and my girlfriend. I don't think they know what it did to me though. It changed me. That, combined with the wisdom of going through drug addiction, only to be stacked on top of prior baggage of nearly dying from health complications when I was seventeen, and being alienated by everyone in highschool. I feel I became wise for my age. After getting clean, lonely months quickly creeped by. I was at a new job, after getting clean, that my old boss pushed me towards as he said the job he had me employed for wasn't my potential. It was dead end job for someone my age. I see that boss as a father figure now. Not to say my Dad wasn't, my Dad is simply.. misunderstood. But that's a whole other ball of wax. Anyways, I was doing well. As well as I could be doing. Mark was due home in a few months and the last time I saw or talked to Ken was 7 months ago. Then on what seemed like any other day, Ken texted me. It was like old times again. He was asking how I was doing and the normal stuff. We continued to chat for weeks. I come to learn that he had a recent breakup. And it was a cold breakup. He knew I had been through that same thing but different extremes. My friend was reverting, seeking the empathy I provided before. I welcomed my brother back with open arms. We started to hang out more and more. Devolving to what once was. We worked at the same place ironically - it's a big company. We worked out together and we hung out together playing video games and just being buddy's. It felt like I had my brother back. Then Mark got home. I was so excited to have him home. I saw him the night he got back. I was real with him. I told him what I went through, with my drug addiction and loss of love. It's the same story I told Ken when I felt the time was right. They both showed worry as I told them my journey individually. But I assured them I was on the right track, and still am. Mark didn't come home to live in the city he left behind. Instead he lived three hours south of me. Close enough to be able to see each other but far enough to cause problems with planning. We really tried to see each other and occasionally did. But as winter grew into spring, and spring faded into summer, months started to blur. We kept in contact daily and he was telling me all about this girl he met. This girl he met on Tinder. They lived two hours away from each other. This girl who, unbeknownst to me, will rob me of my brother. At first it was small things. Changing plans, delayed meet ups, cancelling entirely, and ghosting, till eventually his word became null. I learned this was due to the manipulation and weaver of rhetoric that sat, perched on Mark's shoulder whispering sweet nothings into his ear. I couldn't get Mark to commit to a damn plan that involved me or Ken. With Fall knocking at the door, Mark tells me he can't stand living where he's at and wants to come home. I offer his old sanctuary to him, my home. He gladly accepts and shortly moves in. Now I'm thinking, wow I have my friends finally back at home. But unfortunately if that were the case then I wouldn't be writing this. Having Mark move in with me only gave him a more reasonable excuse to drive off to the city his girlfriend lived in, which is now only 40 minutes from where we live.




Ok, back up a couple months before Mark moves in. Ken is now wallowing about his old ex incessantly. Saying how much he loved her and how broken he was from it. I totally get what that does to a person and was being there for him. But then he started comparing my break up to his. Claiming that I'll never know what that did to him and how he'll never find love. This hurt me. The nerve of saying that to my face. I loved my ex for five years. He dated this girl for about six months. How dare he compare us? But I knew it wasn't about my relationship. It was about him. He was trying to cope. It was OK. However, as he was complaining to me after work, a certain young lady started taking interest in him at work. She was very obvious about it, and in her attempt to be cute and flirty she convinced their manager to meet with Ken and ask him if he liked her. They worked in the same department. A bunch of back forth later, he is no longer single. A girlfriend landed right in his lap while he whined and moaned about an ex. Guess how quickly he forgot about his ex? I began to see Ken less and less. This was to be expected as you know, new girlfriend, honey moon phase, whatever. I get it. But with each passing day I saw my friend less and less. Now in the present it's been 2 months since I've seen him. I believe this is the girl he will marry, even though I've never met her. Ken used me as something to fill his time until I could be replaced. Mark is living with me, currently still. The other day, Mark confided in me he was planning to propose to his girlfriend. I've met her twice, and I don't like her. They've been dating for eight months. I don't know why Mark moved in with me. I originally believed it was because he wanted to rekindle our friendship and continue where we left off. But as we lived together, I observed him leave and scurry down to where his girlfriend lived. He did this any chance he got. Even plans we made together meant nothing if he got a whiff of bring able to drive down to her. Perhaps I'm only a stepping stone?




After a few months of feeling like I got my friends back, I had to idly sit and watch them fade faster than they reappeared. Even though Mark and I lived together, we would go weeks without actually encountering one another. Ken is still MIA. I eventually broke down. I couldn't do it anymore. I waited years for my friends to come home only to never get them back. The trauma I carried in my baggage hit me like a ton of bricks. I was broken again. In a last ditch effort I told my friends I was depressed. I was struggling to stay positive in my daily life. With the heartbreak of losing the woman I loved dearly, to only lose my friends within the following year. I told them I felt like I lost my crew. I lost the group of homies that I shared so many memories with. I lost my brothers. Ken simply responded to me by telling me negativity won't solve anything, and if I'm feeling that lost I should turn to religion. I did not know how to respond. Mark apologized profusely and told me he was going to try and be around and be there for me more. I was always the rock everyone could lean on but now I needed someone to lean on. Mark said a lot of things and made a lot of empty promises. But Mark's word meant nothing anymore. So this brings us to now. I'm writing this not out of anger, or out of spite. I am not sad nor am I jealous. I've never felt so much peace. A clarity that cannot be explained. I only wanted someone to hear my story. This story that has been rattling around my head and weighing on my shoulders. Mark and Ken, you'll never read this as you'll never know this story is being told. I may not understand why you made the choices you both made. I may not understand why I wasn't good enough to be involved in your lives. But just know, I love you guys. You are my brothers, my best friends. That will never change in my book. I miss you guys dearly and trust you two to discover your own happiness. For me? I've lost hope. Perhaps I'm destined to be lonely? Perhaps not? Who really knows? But my hope is gone.




As for the reader, if you made it this far. Thank you for listening to me. Thank you for sticking to the end, listening to the ramblings of a broken man. If you didn't make it that far and are looking for a TL;DR, I'm sorry but I don't have one. I'm sorry I couldn't condense my story. But it's the story I told.




Thank you all.