Popped: A Short Story

Popped
Becoming friends with her in middle school was the sole reason why I stayed sane and afloat. It was as if I had found a soulmate, perfectly compatible in terms of our interests and quirky adolescent phases. We could spend every waking minute together and still be laughing, unscathed by the irritability that usually accompanied friends spending extended amounts of time together. Everything felt great. It wasn’t until the beginning of high school that I started to realize how I muted my opinions around her, while she ranted until she was content. I accepted her flaws, while I was constantly being called out for my own. For the sake of being a natural peacekeeper, I allowed it to continue happening as if it never bothered me for years, …show more content…
If I lost my footing into the wrong subject, the mood would take a slippery downfall and the fabric of our relationship would be soiled by a permanent stain of greasy discomfort. However, she gave no regard to whether her hands stayed clean or not. Seriously? She bashed on my appearance? Drip. She thought she could dismiss rude comments as helpful criticism? Drip. She said cruel things about me behind my back? Drip. Soon enough, the entire bottom surface of the kettle had become slick, and no dry patches to regain stability remained. The harsh words exchanged stuck out like sharp grains of salt being added to the treacherous conditions of the heated kettle, enhancing the feelings of distaste which developed with each argument. Eventually, from any which way I tried to approach an issue, I still found myself in a threatening situation. It became obvious that major changes were going to have to be …show more content…
Following all the damage that had been done, we temporarily resolved to remain completely stagnant and unreactive until the emotions proved themselves unbearable. However, as the temperature neared its popping point, so did the awareness of the mutually abusive situation. It became apparent that ignoring the other would never lead to the closure that was essential for ending the friendship correctly-- at least one of us must transform in order to release the tension. If we were to wait much longer, we would've just burnt into a wasted, bitter mess. This realization shed light on the dark relationship just as the lid of the kettle was opened and thousands of new kernels were poured into the pan. With each spinning encounter in the flood of the unmet kernels that surrounded me, I eventually lost sight of my ex- friend. The slick, oily, basis of my broken friendship that originally trapped me became maneuverable and even expedited the process of finding rare morsels of wholesome friendship in