I returned to that place, once again. I invited him out, and I knew he would follow.

Those wonderful days of resting up at the top of the hill, cradled by the soft, uncut grass and warmed naturally by the shining sun simply couldn't be beat. This was my safe haven, still, but this time, I opened the doors, so to speak, to one other.

Only weeks before, I'd said I was done with him. It was for the best, for him, and for myself, so I thought. It was a difficult decision, but one that became much easier to make as I rested on the hill and convened with Mother Nature.

That's exactly why I brought him there with me, that day.

I was at such peace with myself when I made that decision to be my own man, walk away and leave him behind. I thought it was the right thing for me to do, the right thing for both of us, at the end of it all. Still, here he was with me now, looking up at the golden sun in the endless cerulean sky and looking far less comfortable than I was.

"It's just not the same as it was before," I told him, letting out a quiet sigh as I could already see dark clouds of overly theatrical drama rolling in. They didn't block out the sun, but they were there in my mind, and only growing as I prepared for his response.

My friend, or the person who once was, was a typical German Shepherd; tall, well built, the usual...but he lacked confidence in himself, and it was the kind of lack that he wasn't afraid to infect other people with, and sometimes, I think that he did it just to make himself feel better. To say that he was needy for attention doesn't [i]begin[/i] to describe it, and at the end of it all, having him as a friend was a lot like having a mate that you weren't having sex with, but they still wanted to know where you were all the time, what you were up to, and why you hadn't called them every half an hour.

It was [b]smothering[/b].

"I don't know how you can say that. Some things have changed, but it's not like you and I have changed, dude. We're still the same people, and these last two weeks...I think we've really gotten things back a bit closer to normal."

I scoffed, feeling a little uncomfortable even in the pleasant clutches of the soft grass. "That's is [b]exactly[/b] the problem. [i]Nothing[/i] has changed, but [i]something[/i] needed to, and it didn't. Our normal wasn't a good place to be! The whole reason to take a break, walk away from you and breathe for myself a bit was to give you a chance to see that what we had, what our normal was just wasn't a good thing..."

He looked shocked, and I wasn't sure why. I couldn't begin to count the number of times that I warned him of smothering me with his concerns, or the number of times that he complained that I wasn't reaching out to him enough when I really was making the effort.

People get busy. It's a part of life, and it's rather selfish of anyone involved with a busy person to think that they're making time for everyone [b]except[/b] you, especially when that isn't even nearly the case.

"So it's all just me? I'm the only one with a problem here?" he asked, immediately trying to spin it as if I were tearing him down.

"I'm not saying that," I replied. "I'm not without my faults, either, but the fact remains that we've already fallen back into our old patterns, and that's what we really need to avoid if we're ever going to be friends for the long term. I'm sorry, but I just don't think we can avoid that...we could try this a million more times, and the result would always be the same! We'd always end up in the same place, fighting about how I'm not putting enough effort into the friendship!"

He sat upright in the grass and turned his glance away from me, glaring into the tall, dark buildings that surrounded the otherwise vibrant park. "If you'd put more than a couple minutes a day into our friendship, then maybe that wouldn't be such an issue anymore!"

I wanted to tear away at the grass in my frustration, but this park was one of few places of solace I had left. As my friend raised his voice, I was thankful that we were alone at the top of the hill, for the most part. "There it is again. Don't you get it? It's not that I don't want to make time for you, or anyone! I can't! I've been busy! That's not the worst thing in the world, really, and the fact that I have to balance time between you, and family, and work, and class, and all of my other friends that you just refuse to give a chance, means that I'm not the problem here!"

"Hmmph. So I am?" he asked, his voice purely defiant.

"Yes!" I shot back, letting out an exasperated sigh. "That's what I've been trying to be nice about saying, but you're just not getting it, and you're not letting me be gentle about this. I don't want to say that either of us has a problem, because placing blame in a friendship never ends well, but dude, I've apologized countless times, I've told you I was busy, I've gone out of my way to make the effort to be considerate of your feelings, and all you do is keep blaming me for things not working out!"

It was so weird, speaking so clearly to someone who just clearly didn't get the point. I wasn't sure how to make it any more obvious than I already had, however. "There you go again, blaming me for all of our problems. Don't you have your own flaws to deal with?"

Already, things were starting to go in circles. "I already admitted that I have flaws. Could you at least admit that you have a couple yourself? That maybe you're demanding just a little too much of my time when I have literally almost [b]none[/b] to give?"

"If caring too much about saving a friendship and expecting an equal effort out of someone else are things you call flaws, then sure, I'm flawed, but I really don't know what else I could have done wrong to you, man."

It was obvious that I just wasn't going to get through to him. I really did want to keep trying. I wanted so desperately to make him see the error of his ways, and I just couldn't do it anymore. I really had tried so hard to save the relationship, but the guilt trips, the constant smothering, the way that nothing was ever good enough for the guy, but he thought he was so perfect...I couldn't stand it anymore.

"You're right."

He finally turned back to look at me with a clear expression of bewilderment. "What?" he asked, obviously never having expected to hear such words from me before.

"You're right," I repeated, sitting up from the cozy embrace of the grass with a groan of regret. "I'm the problem here, and I don't want to keep on bringing you down if that's how you really feel. No matter what kind of efforts I make for you, I'm not good enough to be your friend, and I don't want to try to be if it's just going to keep on hurting you more than it helps you."

I didn't know how much I believed my own words. It was possible, after all, to be a problem for someone else without ever intendning to, or without ever doing something to actually cause them a problem, and yet, here I was, on the firing squad again, being blamed for shooting down an innocent man even though I'd been handed the empty gun. 

It was obvious that my friend couldn't believe what he'd heard anymore than I could believe myself for saying it. "Well, I mean...it's not exactly like that, I know I'm not perfect either, but..."

"No. Stop yourself," I paused him, shaking my head and standing upright in the grass. I really didn't want to leave my safe haven, but I knew there was very little choice in the matter if I really wanted to get away from him, and now that I'd shown him this place, he'd know where to find me if he ever really wanted to talk. "I'm taking the blame on myself, and that's fine. You've made it entirely obvious that I need to give you a little distance and let you figure things out. I'm sorry that I wasn't able to be a good enough friend for you, but I'm really not good for you, dude. You need to go out on your own for a bit and look at the world without me. I feel like I'm skewing your view, honestly."

I knew it wasn't what he wanted to hear. He wanted me to say that we'd make things work, that everything was going to be all right and that I would be a better friend in the future. I just couldn't see myself being a better friend; I really didn't know what else I could do for him, especially in the face of such harsh and heavy criticism. It wasn't fair to me, but in a way, I guess it wasn't fair to him, either. I couldn't help feeling that I was stringing him along, even if I really had tried to save what friendship we had.

"So...that's it? You're really gonna throw all of this away and just leave me here? You're going to step away from so many years of friendship, just waste them like that and be done with it?"

I couldn't help a small chuckle at that. "That's just it. People have to grow, they have to change, and if their friendships can survive with them, it's a beautiful thing, but I can't just keep on sitting here and stringing you along. This isn't going to work. We aren't going to remain friends...and it's my fault. Like I said, I'm obviously poisonous for you, and leaving you alone is the only antidote I can provide."

He stood up out of the grass next to me and reached out, grabbing my sleeve. "It doesn't work that way! Just walking away from someone isn't an antidote!"

"It really is, in this case. You'll figure it out someday soon. This really is the best thing I can do for you, old friend. I only wish that I'll be able to call you that again someday."

I tugged my arm away from his grasp and started a slow descent down the hill, out of the sunlight and under the guise of the friendly trees. They could tell that my freedom was bittersweet; that the happiness of my being free of a burden came at the price of hurting someone else, even if only temporarily. 

"C'mon! Don't just leave me here like this!" he yelled out, but the further and further I got from him, the more I could feel a burden lifting from my shoulders. It was as if a boulder had been pressing down on my lungs for years, but slowly, I was developing the strength to lift it from my body, and giving myself a chance to breathe once again.

There was still just a little doubt clouding my judgment, telling me that perhaps, I should turn back and give him one last chance, but the time before that was already supposed to be the last chance, and there was no use in second guessing myself now. Not wanting him to find me again, at least, not right then, I started to jog down a path, away from the hill and into a thicker bit of trees that made up the cover for a walking trail at the other end of my favorite park. Hiding up against the trunk of a tree and hugging my soft, squeezable tail to my chest for comfort, I slumped just a little bit.

It wasn't just about him. This was for me, too, and it wasn't easy. I've [b]never[/b] liked hurting people if I could ever avoid it, but in this case, I simply had to cut him off. It wasn't just about doing the right thing for him by walking away, it was about doing the right thing for [i]myself[/i] by walking away.

It wasn't easy, but I could feel Mother Nature giving me strength once again, as if the tree I rested against was helping to keep me on my footpaws. Tiny beams of sunlight still crept trough the protective cover of the leaves, shining upon my forehead and kissing me with the strength of the a comforting solar energy. In all ways, the very nature around me was assuring me in my moment of doubt that I had done the right thing, and I wasn't one to argue with the planet that gave me life. 

I really [b]had[/b] done the right thing. It might not have felt like it to him at the time, but in my heart of hearts, I really was beginning to believe that I was bad for him, and didn't want to hang around if that was the case. No doubt agreeing with me, a subtle wind rustled the leaves and allowed more of that glorious, golden sunlight to caress my fur with a comforting touch.

It was a reminder to stay true to my convictions and always follow my heart when doing what I thought was right.

I wasn't bitter.

"I really hope you do find some sort of happiness somewhere in life," I whispered to him, knowing he couldn't hear me, but knowing further that the winds would carry that message to him.

It was his turn to learn from Mother Nature, just like I had before, and make his own decisions.

"Maybe I can put a smile on the cashier's face today," I said to myself, as a smile crept across my own muzzle, and I left the burdens of yesterday behind me, ready to start a new day with a new, brighter attitude.

Even if I failed to do that, I wouldn't be sad about it anymore. It was amazing to me just how therapuetic this experience already was, and it was downright shocking to me that I could still feel so happy as my footpaws came off of the walking path and landed on the harsh, uneven sidewalk once again. 

Maybe it wasn't the park that was making me so happy, and maybe it wasn't the city that was making me so sad.

Maybe I was just beating myself up over what I knew had to be done, and now that it was, whether I was in the city or the park, I'd be sure to have a smile on my face, and not have to fool passerbys with that mask of a fake smile ever again.