Another reality of living inside a tight knit grey market community, where news spreads like wildfire, often driven by a small group who’ve appointed themselves chief snoops, is this:
Friendship is conditional.
One minute someone is your friend.
The next, they’ve turned on you.
You’re useful while you’re helping them, answering questions, offering protection, sharing information. But the moment you publish something they don’t like, the knives come out. Suddenly you’re labelled a problem, a traitor, even a cancer.
Most of that, I can shrug off. I file it under: that’s life.
What hurts isn’t the predictable backlash from opportunists or snitches.
It’s the people you thought were genuine friends.
The ones you let into your inner world.
One minute you’re making plans to meet in real life.
The next, they’ve vanished, no explanation, no goodbye.
All that’s left are memories of a friendship, and the inevitable question you’re forced to sit with:
Was any of it real, or was I only valuable while I was useful?
Those are the ones that sting the hardest. They leave a mark. And they teach you a lesson you don’t want to learn, but end up learning anyway:
In the grey zone, friendship has conditions, and those conditions can change without warning.
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