TW://self h*rm, mental illness, ab*ndonment
We met through a friend of a friend our freshman year. I was collecting people to keep around me like a shell to hide in. You were content with yourself and a few familiars. It would be years later when you told me you thought I was smart but naïve.
I thought you were stuck up.
Our original group drifted apart but you and I somehow stuck together. We shared the same class every year and it became the highlight of my day. My eyes always sought you out in the crowd of other students; where is she? Where is she?
You got a car in our junior year. It was a tiny, off-white, four-door with an engine so loud we had to shout to hear each other whenever you drove. We made it a habit to run through the Dairy Queen drive thru after school, usually my treat. You always got the M&M’s and cookie dough, and I always got the strawberry cheesecake. Even though I knew what yours tasted like I asked for a bite.
One summer day you called and asked if I wanted to go on an adventure.
With you? Always. We stuffed your trunk full; towels, floaties, clothes, shoes, snacks, water, and sunscreen. On the highway we blasted music so loud my ears were ringing but I don’t remember what it was, just that you were laughing so hard we almost hit the ditch. We drove an hour to Detroit Lakes because your cousin knew a nice, small beach on a lake outside the city where few people ever went.
It took us forever to blow up the stupid floaties but it was worth it once we were on the water. The current took us way out to where our feet couldn’t touch and I hooked my leg onto yours so that you wouldn’t float away from me. The sun was hot but the water was cold and we talked for hours out there where no one could hear us.
It wasn’t until we dried off that we realized how burned we were. Your arms were a candy apple color and my thighs looked like SOLO cups. You ran inside the local Walgreens and we slathered ourselves with aloe vera the entire way home, laughing at ourselves and tearing up because of the pain.
That night I stayed for a sleepover. I stood awkwardly in my underwear (any more clothing on my skin was unbearable) while you made up your bed, wondering where I would sleep. You patted the twin mattress, inviting me in and I felt my breath leave my body.
Will we both fit?
Don’t be shy.
You weren’t afraid to snuggle into me. The door was open, we were two girls, just friends, nothing to gawk at.
No, not just friends. Best friends.
I could never explain to you how my heart swelled, wishing I could curl up inside your soul, be your best friend forever and ever until the sun died and we were nothing more than star dust. I couldn’t say anything about how tears spilled down my cheeks and I prayed silently to whatever god would listen, please please please let me keep this one. How I would give anything to be your best friend for the rest of time.
I don’t think we should hang out anymore.
After graduation I got a full time job and an apartment with my [then] girlfriend. You were studying to get into Child Protective Services. The text came out of nowhere.
It’s not that we can’t be friends, it’s just... I’m finally happy. And you’re not.
I froze in the middle of the hallway, keys in hand, staring at my screen. I felt my stomach drop to my feet.
Whenever I’m with you, I feel like I need to be sad, too.
I remember it had been a while since we hung out; we were both so busy with our own lives that free time became a rarity, usually spent catching up on sleep or with our families. I think we both knew it would be harder to find time together once we graduated.
I’m sorry, I know this must be hard to hear. I don’t mean to hurt you, but I need to look out for myself.
I made it to my bathroom before the lump in my throat burst out of my mouth as a choked sob and my eyes blurred with tears.
You’re a sweetheart and I’ll always care about you. Just… not as close as I had before.
It wasn’t until the blood was running down my arms and into the sink that I realized I was doing the very thing you were distancing yourself from me for. You didn’t want me to stain your sleeves, too. To stain your happy life.
You can always call or text, I’ll always be your friend.
As childish as it may have been, I lashed out. I wanted you to hurt as much as I was. I had once prided myself on my pragmatism, but in that moment I felt my world crumbling. I lit the match that burned our bridge.
Fuck you. I hope you rot in hell.
Still, you were better than me. You had self-respect. Boundaries. Limits.
I won’t tolerate being spoken to like this. I’m blocking you, and I suggest you delete my number.
Part of me was hurt that you wouldn’t put up more of a fight; argue with me, fight to keep me around. Part of me knows it’s not fair of me to make you jump through hoops like a circus animal. Friendships are two-way streets, built on respect and love.
But… where was the love in abandoning me?
It’s been over a year now since we’ve last spoken. I stalk you on Instagram occasionally, but you don’t update that often. Every time I try to message you I get cold feet, unsure of what I should write. Do I even deserve you anymore? Did I ever deserve you? After all this time, do you even remember me…?
Even though we were never dating it still hurts like a breakup. The amount of tissues and ice cream tubs clogging my trash are a constant reminder that I’m just too tired to take out.
If somehow you’re reading this, know that I’m sorry, and I miss you. I’m leaving this message in a bottle for you. Write me back.