It’s been… 9 months, 2 days and so many hours since it happened. Since you said “maybe we aren’t suited to be friends”. It’s difficult to say what caused our falling out – something about a boring Halloween party – but I think it was something that had been building. Little rifts here and there over the past couple years that created a fault line in our friendship that finally split open and created an untraversable fracture leaving me on one side and you on the other. Instead of it being the two of us against the world it become a battle between us, and that is a contest no one is going to win. Maybe I should’ve done something then, maybe I should’ve tried harder, maybe I should’ve pointed out all the things that have happened in the last decade that proves we ARE meant to be friends – but I couldn’t then. I couldn’t because I was hurt, because I was sad, because I was angry. I still am all those things, but I realize I need to do this anyway. I couldn’t say my piece before, to fix this break and build a bridge – or at least be able to say “I did everything I could”. I couldn’t then, but I am now.
I’ve never been dumped before (probably due to my habit of leaving before I get left, but that’s a whole other issue) so maybe I’m not handling this the way I’m supposed to. I read guides, how-to’s on getting over someone, but none of them seem to understand what it’s like to try and live without someone who was your other half, someone you called your soulmate. I want to try and list all the things in my life that recall something we did together to mind, but it’s impossible. I didn’t go a day without talking to you for 8 years, almost every memory I have relates back to you. We did everything together. Every movie I saw, every party I went to, every flight of stairs I fell down – it was all with you. We got our first tattoos together. We went to Christmas Eve service together. We kept each other safe when we were too drunk and kept each other’s spirits up when we were too sad. My good times were with you, my bad times were with you. Always with you. What I’m admitting now is what I’ve only admitted to myself so far, and that is that I miss you. I miss what we had, I miss who we were. I miss how we pretended to get annoyed when we spoke in unison, but I secretly loved how we were always on the same wavelength. I miss that you could pick up almost every obscure reference or quote I made. I miss having so many inside jokes that we could be off in peals of laughter while other people sat, bemused, wondering what was so funny about whispering “the blindside”. I miss not having to explain a preliminary backstory when I want to talk about something, because you always already knew it. I miss having someone I could do anything with, and someone I could do nothing with. I miss being part of a package deal, because everyone knew they couldn’t have one of us without the other. I miss telling the Graham story with you, it’s just not as fun by myself. I miss seeing a picture and immediately thinking “oh I have to send this to you”. Actually, I still do think that; the only problem is now I don’t follow through. I miss it being you and me against everyone else. I miss my best friend.
But I’m also mad at you. So incredibly, unbelievably angry. I’m mad that you could throw this away. I’m mad that I meant so fucking little to you that you could walk away without a backwards glance. I’m mad that you wouldn’t fight for me. God, why wouldn’t you fight for me? I would’ve done anything for you. I’m angry because when I look back on our friendship, I can easily say that you did shitty things to me over the course of our friendship. No one would argue me on that point; I’ve got a backlog of evidence to prove it. I’m mad at you for treating me like I was second best, I’m mad at you for not listening when I tried to open up to you, I’m mad at you for using me to get drives. I’m mad at you for everything you ever did wrong. Only, when I try and pinpoint something major… I can’t do it. Maybe it’s just nostalgia causing me to see the past through rose coloured glasses, but when I want to come up with the reasons I’m better off without you, the things that made you a toxic friend, there are only a few examples that come to mind. I can think of fights we had – stupid arguments over boys or sleeping arrangements – but even I can admit that those were always a two way street and my hands are no cleaner than yours. Most of what I remember is the good things, the little things, the things that don’t matter to anyone else. And that makes me mad too. That you can hurt me so badly and I still want to see the best in you – you don’t deserve that power unless you’re going to use it for good. Which you didn’t.
If I’m being honest – which I might as well be, if I’m going to do this – the anger is an instrument to protect myself. If I’m angry, I’m not sad. If I’m hard, I won’t be hurt so easily again. I’m angry because I don’t want to be vulnerable anymore. I don’t want to be scared. If I admit I’m scared, there’s a whole list of things I have to be scared about. I’m scared that ‘forever’ was only 8 years. I’m scared that from here on out, you will not be a part of my life. I’m scared that for every big life event I experience, everything will have a black cloud over it because I’m remembering I was supposed to experience it with you. That when I look around at my wedding day at all the faces of my bridesmaids, it will hurt just as badly then as it does now to find that yours will not be there. What hurts the most, what worries me the most is that maybe you haven’t noticed my absence in your life – or that maybe you have, but it just doesn’t matter to you. I’m scared that our lack of a future doesn’t hurt you as badly as it hurts me – that you’ve moved on. I’m scared that you don’t miss me as much as I miss you. Every time I come to town I want to call you – every time a mutual friend mentions what you’re up to I get a pang in my heart feeling that I should’ve known that already.
Maybe I’m right to be scared. Maybe you don’t miss me, maybe you’ll read this and laugh, because you stopped thinking about me months ago. Maybe you’ll think about how pathetic I am before going back to your new life, your new friends, your new replacement for me. Maybe I don’t mean anything to you anymore – maybe I never did. That thought is what has kept me from reaching out for so long. If you cared about me, why weren’t you the one to apologize first? Or at least apologize second after I tried to make amends a few months back? I tried, I really tried, and you brushed me away like I was just a nuisance. A shadow of a past life trying to creep its way back in. I swore that was the end of my attempts; if you didn’t care enough then, what would have changed by now? Probably nothing. This is probably going to get me nothing but a broken heart. Going out on a limb means you have a possibility of falling, but I’m ready to do it anyway. After all, I have nothing to lose and my best friend back to gain – and that’s everything.