Different Worlds

It’s been a while. I knew the moment you moved out there, that I was losing you. I knew we would grow apart. I believe I even told you so, more than once. Now, it’s been a while, since we spoke, and even on text message, I hardly recognize you anymore.

Once upon a time, we were inseparable. We spoke all the time, even if we didn’t see each other, we texted. Now, I haven’t heard from you since I got a quick, “happy birthday” text on my birthday a month ago and still, when you did contact me, I was the one who failed our friendship because you had just been busy. So, I should have called you, on the off chance that you might answer.

I didn’t. I am not going to.

I realize that friends should be able to go for long periods of time, without speaking to each other, and then pick up right where we left off when we meet again at some point. I have friends I see maybe five times a year, and they are some of my very best friends, because even if time and life and distance came between us, we never grew apart.

We still have common interests, things to talk about without our relationship feeling forced when we meet. We still share an interest in each other’s lives, no matter how  little time we have to spend with each other.

You, on the other hand, I don’t recognize anymore. The girl I used to know, she cared. She was interested in my horses, in my life, and she never failed to be there if I needed someone to talk to when things went wrong in my life. I miss that girl.

The girl I used to know, and I know it’s a minor thing, shared my taste in music. When I stopped by your birthday party a few months ago, I didn’t know you at all. This smooth, polished, pop girl, fitting in, and listening to nothing but electronic brain dead noise. I realize that you tend to mirror those around you, and perhaps to the extend where you lose yourself to become one of them. I know you did the same with me, and maybe that was why we shared the same taste in music. Because you were just copying me. I wonder who you really are, what you really like, deep down. I wonder if you know.

The music, though, I could look past. But not what it means.

You have changed. I told you, when you texted me a few days ago, that my horse was sick and may have to go to the hospital. Any real friend, would have asked by now, how he was. Where he was. If he was still alive. Any real friend would know how terrified I am for him and all I get from you is silence once again.

I know the stable you work at, and I cannot understand how you can keep doing it. I guess that is one of the main reasons why we are truly growing apart right now. Because we are both letting it happen, as the equestrian world is once and for all coming between us. I cannot remain friends with anyone who knowingly, willingly, blindly support abuse and you… I guess I am a liability for you, outspoken as I am about how our horses are treated in the sport.

But since the JBK festival, seeing how the show jumpers are warmed up- yours included- I just can’t look you in the eye, simply because it is not just a job to you. You are proud of it. You are happy with it. You are proud of your riders. And should something go wrong, the horse was just trouble that day. I have heard you say that so many times and it makes me sick to hear such ignorance from someone I used to love.

The whole competition side of the equestrian world is centred around abuse, be it isolation of the horses, or barring of the show jumpers, and always, always training by force. Your stable is no different.

I just don’t know you anymore. I don’t know how the girl I used to know, can be part of that world. But I know that I cannot remain friends with anyone who turns a blind eye, like you do. We simply have nothing in common anymore.

I have told you this before, but I don’t think you listened. Maybe you just thought I was being over dramatic. And I know, I have changed a lot lately, myself, leaving the world of competition behind, no longer wanting to be part of that horrible game where the most abused horse, usually win. I know I have become, what some might find, extreme.  But I never compromised the well being of my horse and I always spoke up against those who did, so it can hardly be a surprise. We have simply developed in very different directions.

So what I am saying is, that I am slightly disappointed in you. I thought you had a heart. I really thought you cared.

And, I am sorry. I just can’t be your friend the way things are right now. I will always love you, but I really don’t like who you turned into at the moment.

I understand that it is human nature to want to fit in, and be part of a group. I am just wondering, if any of your new friends at the stable, are going to be there, for the rest of your life and I am scared for you, if they should one day, leave.

You can always come to me. Just know that. Always.

Especially once you wake up and realize what you are a part of in a professional show jumping stable.

In some ways, I hope you never will. Maybe you can be happy there forever, ignorant about the abuse those horses you work with suffer. But if that is to happen, I can’t stay in your life. I will always point it out. So here I am then, backing out, counting on you to not even read this, because that would be a first in about six months I guess, you had bothered to look up my blog and see what went on in my life.

If you do though, and still want to be my friend, you can start by asking how my horse is doing… And I’ll try to meet you half way, yet again, even though I think I shouldn’t, for both of our sakes.

This is not how a ten year old friendship should end, I know, but it ended a long time ago, we just never said it out loud. To be honest, I didn’t think I’d hear from you again, and I wasn’t too happy when you did text me. Not because I didn’t want to talk to you, but simply because I feel like we are both stuck in a time past, and we cannot go back, and together, we cannot go forward either.

Tell me how to fix this, please. Or let me go.


About Starstone

-Owned by horses. Writer, Photographer, Director, Musician.
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