In another time, in another place, you would have supported me.

If I told you about this all, about the people who had hurt me and refused to apologise. About the ones who made me feel like a terrible mother by indirectly suggesting I was not putting my daughter first. About the people who doubted me happiness, desire the amount of times I told them I was happy. About those who told me I was lying and changing the narrative, when all I was really doing was trying to make them understand.

If I told you about those people, who didn't listen, who didn't say sorry, who didn't care, you would have been appalled. Instead, though, my friends, this time it is you. You who have been my support all these years - it is you.

You are the ones who refused to say sorry. You are the ones who told me I lied. You are the ones who said I was changing my mind, when I did not even understand the context to begin with. You revealed new things you were upset about, from me. I altered my apology and explanation to take that into account.

That is not me changing the tale. That is me adapting.

My friends, if I told you this tale from a third party, who would have supported me, laughed with me and cried with me. You would have told me that I am not worthless, and that I am still a good mother.

Instead, my loves, this tale involves you as the villains, and so it is with a heavy heart that I must begin to admit this friendship has failed.