Dear Ex-Best Friend:
When you sent me that text that said, "I can't be around you anymore, it's just too unhealthy for me." at 2:23 in the morning, one and a half year's worth of building was over.
It was a little ridiculous how quickly we became best friends, looking back. We'd never really talked up until our senior year of high school, but we had multiple classes together and a lot in common, so we bonded. In my junior year of high school, I'd lost a toxic friend of five years, and it was good to have another close friend again. Fairly soon we were always together, and I'd be at your house almost every weekend I could be. We did theater together and won multiple baking competitions in our classes with your creativity and my skills. Life was good.
You were the one who nursed me through learning how to play video games (even though you hated watching me play because I took the time to look around everywhere) and I knew I could always ask you how to get through a particularly hard quest. We bonded further over that, and I enjoyed going over to your house, a stress-free environment where I could lay in bed and play video games without fear of getting yelled at.
We had our ups and downs as friends, to be sure. When we fought, though, we always ended up apologizing shortly thereafter and moving forward. I always enjoyed my time with you, and made sure to give you plenty of it. This should've been a red flag for me: if I texted someone too much when hanging out, you'd get jealous. I tallied it up to needing attention, and that was okay with me.
Things got more difficult when I went to college in the fall. You were working on your GED at that point, which I supported you with as much as I could. Graduation was a hard time for me, but you were there. Once I'd settled in at college, if I ever hinted at coming home you'd say something along the lines of, "Nah, you probably want to hang out with your college friends." I brushed away your passive aggressive comments because you were my best friend. After all, you'd been so supportive to me, especially when I'd come out to my family as pansexual and when my then partner had attempted to take their own life. I made trips home and made sure to keep my schedule open so that I could spend time with you. It didn't bother me much, as I liked to spend time with you, taking you out if you needed a break from your house or just laying in bed and talking about video games.
When you finally confessed you'd had a crush on me for the duration of our friendship, something I'd known for just as long as you'd been hiding it, I felt a tiny spark of what could have been. We tried dating, but the spark for me faded all too quickly, and though I hated hurting you like that I couldn't fake it. You knew my vulnerability in that area, and knew I was getting over a prior relationship that still had me stuck. That was a pitfall in our friendship when I broke it off with you, but we made it past that point. Or at least I did.
I noticed almost immediately that you still had feelings for me. I didn't try to stop them because this was how our friendship had been before, in a way, and I didn't want to hurt you by suggesting you tone the affection down. But when I started hanging out with other people in an attempt to finally move on from that relationship I'd been stuck on, I was afraid to tell you all the details. I knew what you'd think: "Why was I not enough for you?" and I wanted to save you some of that pain. In the end, it didn't matter.
That night when everything fell apart, you pulled passive aggressive one-word texts, something you knew had ruined past relationships with me before. I tried to stay rational and to formulate a response that was logical and at the same time attempted to shut down the vibes coming from you. Then you hit me, at 2:23 AM, with that text, "I can't be around you anymore, it's too unhealthy for me."
If I'm honest, I didn't feel much at the time -- it was late, I was tired, and the one-word "Whatever"s prior to that text had irritated me. I typed out, "If that's how you really feel, then okay." You sent back some bland well-wishes, and that was that. I felt a little upset, but mostly relieved. Soon after that, I went to sleep, setting aside my phone and not giving it too much thought.
It's been a few weeks now since that conversation, and only once has it really hurt: the moment I discovered you'd deleted our shared Google Photos account. All those memories I'd thought were safe were now gone, and it hit me hard, I'll admit that. But in all honesty, I think I miss the idea of our friendship more than what we'd actually turned into. It was a lot of effort on both our parts, sure, but I am slowly learning that it's okay to cut passive aggressive and toxic people out. I hadn't thought it would start with someone I thought would be my best friend forever, but such is life.
In the end, I think it's okay to say goodbye to you. So, goodbye.
Sincerely,
Your Ex Best Friend
