From my heart...
I’ve been thinking a lot about 90210 lately—specifically Adrianna and Naomi. You know the moment: Naomi gets caught with Adrianna’s stash, and suddenly, her world crumbles for something she didn’t even do. Meanwhile, Adrianna watches her best friend walk away, knowing full well she caused it. I hate to say it, but... I’ve been there. Maybe not with actual drugs or designer scandals, but I’ve made mistakes that stained people I cared about. And when the fallout hit, I had to ask myself: can guilt ever outshine the hurt I caused? Spoiler: Naomi didn’t think so. And sometimes, neither do the people we love.
Adrianna's confession seriously stood out to me, "Yeah, I’m claiming responsibility. So what? It was obviously my fault. I don’t want to miss her. She was trying to help me and I hurt her so badly. So deeply that she’s never gonna forgive me. And I can’t live with myself knowing that I did something that awful."
Watching Adrianna fall apart over Naomi hits differently when you've lived it. I had a Naomi. My number one, my ride-or-die. We weren’t just close—we were synced. The kind of friendship where one raised eyebrow meant “spill the tea” and a shared glance meant “same thought.” And then—just like that—we weren’t. She cut me off. Completely. No big dramatic fight, no last words. Just silence that grew louder every day. She told me she never wanted to speak to me again. And she meant it. That was four years ago. You’d think I’d be over it by now. And I am... mostly. But then there are those weird little moments—the ones you don’t expect. A joke no one else would get. A memory that floats up out of nowhere. A song, a scent, a moment that we would've laughed at together. That’s when the ache hits. Not loud. Not messy. Just a soft, sharp kind of missing. Like Adrianna, I’ve said sorry. To the counselor, in the letters I never sent, in late-night whispers no one heard. But like Naomi, she made her choice. And I have to live with that. Some friendships aren’t lost in explosions. They're lost in silence.
And the hardest part is still wanting to share the laugh when the other person isn’t listening anymore.
Some days, I convince myself that I’ll never have that kind of friendship again. That the closeness, the compatibility, the bond we had was once-in-a-lifetime. And maybe it was. But lately, I’ve been trying to believe something else, too: that maybe the universe doesn’t always give us replacements—it gives us reminders. New people, new energy, new chances to feel seen and safe and silly all over again. It won’t be her. It won’t be us. But it might still be beautiful. I don’t know when that connection will show up. I don’t know who it’ll be. But I do know that I’m still here, still healing, still open.
And even though it still hurts sometimes, I’ve made amazing progress. I’ve owned up to my mistakes. I’ve faced truths I used to run from. I’ve stopped waiting for closure that may never come. I’m no longer stuck. I’m still healing, still learning—but I’m also moving. Forward. And stronger. And maybe, that’s what growth really looks like.
This was a 'from the heart' blog. I won't be doing these too often, only when I need to. I hope this can help someone that may be in a rut in their relationship.
QOTD (Quote of the Day): In order to love who you are, you cannot hate the experiences that shaped you.
Talk soon,
Elle B. Are. ♥
LBRdiaries@blogspot.com
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