Passive Aggressive Plant Analogies

I've never particularly been a mature person, and I don't expect people around me to be so either. Because maturity is a vague concept. Seriously, how do you define it? There are no fixed parameters there. Some people think maturity comes with intellectual development, some think it comes with social choices and some think it's all life experience. It's so many things...

I can't say I'm mature yet, but I can say I'm thinking. Throughout my life, I've been faced with some things that any normal person would find difficult to live with. At this point in my life, though, I'm in a happy place. My mind and my thoughts are settled and unobscured by emotion enough for me to make an honest assessment of my circle of trust.  

I have been, for so long, the calm, balanced, seemingly emotionless person within my group of friends that only a few know me inside out. Only a few know that I do go insane. They know that I do, albeit rarely, throw bitch fits and post the occasional angst-ridden blog post (although I loathe the latter with an unparalleled intensity.) 

Here's another thing people know about me. I make weird analogies - so here's one for the books.

You could think of me as a plant, emerging and growing strongly from a seemingly bleak, unpromising foundation. Maybe even a caterpillar, but, as we all know, I'm no butterfly. I'm not beautiful or delicate, but I'm always growing. I would divide my friends into categories as far as the plant analogy goes. 

There are some that are complete and absolute tree huggers. They supported me, loved me, fed my soul with their laughter and moulded me into the person I am today. I'm not perfect, but at least I'm somebody. And that means a lot to me. There are some that cut me down. Some that pluck at the little leaves of happiness, certainty and beauty in my life just for fun. Some weeds, whose negativity poisons me by association, slowly but surely creeping up on me and keeping their intentions veiled the whole time. Some cut me down but build me back up anyway. Some drift in and out of my life...I could go on. 

Yes. It is my job to deal with your problems because I call myself your friend. But it is not my job to take the blame for any of it. It's also not my job to chase you down and ask you when you're going to wake up from your self-centered stupor and realize that yours is not the only life that's changing. I look back at phases of your lives - our lives - during which we were irreplaceable to each other because we were such good friends. I couldn't imagine life without you and I still can't, but you're doing fine without me.

Isn't that just so great? Now that I'm physically absent, I'm easily replaced. I'm not saying you shouldn't be happy, but I am saying that you're a fake. And there's no room in my life for fakes. 

If our friendship only holds superficial meaning to you, then all I have to say is - Goodbye. It was nice knowing, loving, sharing things with, growing up with and mindlessly bitching with you. 

Trees shed leaves. Plants have leaves that grow yellow and die.

In my mind, you just grew yellow and died.