A Letter To An Ex-Best Friend
Start writing a post
Relationships

A Letter To An Ex-Best Friend

Sometimes, I still miss you.

58
A Letter To An Ex-Best Friend
Summer Markajani

Hi friend,

God, I’ve missed you.

This month marks one year since we stopped being friends. And I know there wasn’t much said. It seemed to have just happened. But, so many things occurred last summer, so many things were left unsaid, that the fall-out of our friendship seemed inevitable.

"Change is inevitable. No matter if it's good or bad, change is one of the few things in life you can always rely on. Don't fear it, but feel reassured- you won't live the same life all along." -t.k.

I’ll never forget the memories we made, especially during the summer before we went our separate ways for college. I miss picking you up in the middle of the night, along with the other goons (amigos/friends/muchachos), and driving down to that park where we would run through the playground and then sit high up somewhere, talking about life and all the bullshit and all the unknown. Then we’d go to Tim Horton's at 4 a.m. and I’d order some weird concoction of a breakfast sandwich I thought of. We probably smoked way too many black and mild’s for our own good, but we didn’t care; it just felt right.

I remember some nights I would drive over to your house and watch you while you were drawing. You’d listen to me talk about my craziest ideas and dreams. I told you some of my deepest, most personal thoughts. And you never seemed to judge me for it. I loved watching you draw, especially that summer, when we had no time limits—except for college on the horizon. You were so talented at drawing the most abstract things. And you brought these images to life, something I was never able to do. I still wonder if you ever finished that drawing of me.

You were one of my only friends who ever got me to open up more. I know when you first met me, I hated being hugged, being touched. Once we became good friends, you started telling me you loved me and I told you I hated that word: love. It was overused and had long lost its meaning for me. But, you continuously told me you loved me and loved being my friend and you’d hug me on days I was too upset. I never understood it (some days I hated it), but I let you do it because I just think it was part of who you were.

And friend, some of my worst nightmares have occurred since we last talked. Honestly, I’m not the same person I was a year ago. And from what I’ve heard, you definitely aren’t either.

Once college started, things changed. Granted, we did have issues before we even went to college. Your friends weren’t close with my friends and once you started growing as an individual, some people had issues with it. The way you treated me did, at times, seem as though you were using me for what I had. My past made me and others close to me mistrustful of our friendship. There was miscommunication and jealousy and arguments that never got resolved. Once I moved away, these small issues escalated. Then college started—and I thought there was no turning back.

In college, there was no doubting it: you backstabbed me, numerous times. I’m sure there were times I even hurt you. But, I couldn’t seem to escape the idea that our friendship wouldn’t last. Alcohol heightened these incidences—things just weren’t the same. You weren’t the same. I wasn’t the same. And we never truly talked about it. When I did try to talk about it, you were very defensive. I personally think you started acting as someone you weren’t. You weren’t staying true to who you once were. Part of me thinks that who you are now is who you were all along, but you never showed it.

We stopped communicating as much. When I couldn’t give you rides, you found rides from others and the plans “fell out.” I think our friendship became less about the actual friendship and more about the parties, being acknowledged by others, being popular, alcohol, etc. It got to the point where I didn’t think we were even on the same page anymore and as soon as the words were said that we shouldn’t be friends, I didn’t know how else to fix it. You never talked to me again after that.

Some days, I wonder if you missed me enough. Would you make the effort to see how I was doing? I’ve watched you, from afar, change into someone I don’t even recognize. Who you used to be, is far from who you are now. And that's okay. Do I sometimes question if you weren’t who you claimed to be when we were friends? Yes. But, you are doing what you want and you are hanging out with who you choose. And I don’t want any part of that anymore (don’t take this negatively.) I won’t lie, I miss you and I think about how close we used to be. I loved having you as a friend and going on adventures and dancing at concerts with you. I loved the true, “good” memories. Once we stopped making those as much, I figured it was best to move on.

Gosh, sometimes I have these moments where I think about how you’d respond if I’ve told you what’s been going on. You’d probably shit yourself. I’m in a place I never imagined myself to be. I’ve lost more friends than I planned on, but I’ve never been this close to my family before. I’ve wanted to give up and I’ve wanted to give in to calling you or texting you or just showing up at your big, white house. I’ve wanted to sit on your bed with the tapestry we got you and tell you everything that’s happened (while eating a slice of chicken charlie pizza). But, I have a strange feeling that won’t ever happen.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m picking up the pieces. I’m moving on and I’m making bigger changes than my high school self imagined me to be capable of. I’m pushing all of the negative energy away and I’m “using my nerves” like we once talked about. I’m trying to gain back my happiness, and I hope you are doing the same.

Let’s be honest though, you’re so different now. I see you in a way I never thought I would. You’re doing things you probably wouldn’t have done years ago. So yea, sometimes I question if you were really true to your identity when we were friends. But then most times I think, maybe you’re where you need to be for now. If this is who you are, then I’m glad I’m watching from afar—because it’s not somewhere I think I’d fit in.

I know parts of this will offend you; maybe you won’t agree with it. Maybe it’ll make you angry. Maybe parts of it are wrong and I just need an explanation. But I had to get it off my chest and I know that it’s possible you’ll find yourself reading this. I’m writing this out of love and I hope you get it.

I wish you the absolute best, seriously.

I hope, I pray, you are still drawing. I hope your family is doing well and I hope you are making moves in terms of school, if that’s what you want. I hope you are still listening to Twenty One Pilots and finding peace in the things that you loved when we were friends. I don’t know where you are spiritually, if you’re even happy or if this is all a façade of happiness, but I hope it’s where you want to be. I hope that you still think of me, and not in a negative manner. I hope that you know I never meant to hurt you when I walked away. I just think it’s how it’s supposed to be. Maybe one day, we’ll cross paths again and I hope that it’s an encounter of love and forgiveness. For now, keep finding yourself and don’t ever forget, I’ll always be a phone call away.

xx, summahlovinn (Loti)

Report this Content
This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
houses under green sky
Photo by Alev Takil on Unsplash

Small towns certainly have their pros and cons. Many people who grow up in small towns find themselves counting the days until they get to escape their roots and plant new ones in bigger, "better" places. And that's fine. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought those same thoughts before too. We all have, but they say it's important to remember where you came from. When I think about where I come from, I can't help having an overwhelming feeling of gratitude for my roots. Being from a small town has taught me so many important lessons that I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

Keep Reading...Show less
​a woman sitting at a table having a coffee
nappy.co

I can't say "thank you" enough to express how grateful I am for you coming into my life. You have made such a huge impact on my life. I would not be the person I am today without you and I know that you will keep inspiring me to become an even better version of myself.

Keep Reading...Show less
Student Life

Waitlisted for a College Class? Here's What to Do!

Dealing with the inevitable realities of college life.

86855
college students waiting in a long line in the hallway
StableDiffusion

Course registration at college can be a big hassle and is almost never talked about. Classes you want to take fill up before you get a chance to register. You might change your mind about a class you want to take and must struggle to find another class to fit in the same time period. You also have to make sure no classes clash by time. Like I said, it's a big hassle.

This semester, I was waitlisted for two classes. Most people in this situation, especially first years, freak out because they don't know what to do. Here is what you should do when this happens.

Keep Reading...Show less
a man and a woman sitting on the beach in front of the sunset

Whether you met your new love interest online, through mutual friends, or another way entirely, you'll definitely want to know what you're getting into. I mean, really, what's the point in entering a relationship with someone if you don't know whether or not you're compatible on a very basic level?

Consider these 21 questions to ask in the talking stage when getting to know that new guy or girl you just started talking to:

Keep Reading...Show less
Lifestyle

Challah vs. Easter Bread: A Delicious Dilemma

Is there really such a difference in Challah bread or Easter Bread?

52836
loaves of challah and easter bread stacked up aside each other, an abundance of food in baskets
StableDiffusion

Ever since I could remember, it was a treat to receive Easter Bread made by my grandmother. We would only have it once a year and the wait was excruciating. Now that my grandmother has gotten older, she has stopped baking a lot of her recipes that require a lot of hand usage--her traditional Italian baking means no machines. So for the past few years, I have missed enjoying my Easter Bread.

Keep Reading...Show less

Subscribe to Our Newsletter

Facebook Comments