Write about a loss: something (or someone) that was part of your life, and isn’t any more. Today’s twist: Make today’s post the first in a three-post series.

Today you want us to write about our loss. I was going to write about having lost someone close to me to the disease of the century. I am not ready to write about this yet. It would be far too upsetting, and I am not ready to go public with it. What I am ready to write about, though, is losing friends in my life.

As this is supposed to be the first post of a series of three, this assignment will be about the first friend I lost – in primary school. We were a bunch of happy girls. We used to go round each other’s places, hang around, chat, listen to music and get to know each other. As well as each other’s parents, of course: otherwise who would let us just hang around with no control. In those days, so many years ago, it was all about parental control.

I had this friend who I was really close to. We used to hang around a lot. Until one day I realised that what we had was a one-way friendship. Or one-way communication, to be more precise. The most clear memory about this friend that I have been carrying through life is that she wasn’t interested in what I was saying. About anything. She was dismissive and never let me finish what I had to say to her. She wasn’t really interested in listening. All she wanted was to have a good listener. Which I sure was – as expected from a good friend.

I only realised this was the case after we had been friends for a number of years. So, by the time I noticed it, it was too late. She had left her mark on me. I had developed a serious complex which took me years to get rid of. And which, I guess, is still deeply embedded in me. That what I’ve got to say is not interesting. That I have to keep short what I want to say. That it always has to be to the point. Rather than talk to someone who understands and wants to listen to you. Which is what friendship is about. At least to me.

We stopped hanging around after we finished school. I have no idea what she has been up to since then. I wouldn’t even recognise her if I saw her now, as I have completely forgotten her face. I guess this is my subconsciousness at play here, blocking away memories that are too painful. What I do remember vividly, though, is where she used to live. And her name. You bet I have no other friend with the same name. Wonder why?… I think I know the answer.

So, this is how I lost a friend for a first time. And didn’t regret it at all.