Disclaimer: If you're reading this, I don't want you to feel special because I decided to make something just about you despite your absence in my life. I don't mean that in a hostile way at all. It's just that writing this letter has impacted me more than it can ever impact you.
Dear friend,
As soon as you told me that you and your boyfriend were officially dating, although I didn't want to acknowledge it, I knew and feared that things were going to be different. Of course, I didn't want them to be, nor did I want to accept the fact that you were going to have a new person in your life that could potentially come between us. But now, that potential has become a reality.
We used to hang out every day. We haven't hung out once since you guys started dating. I thought we were closer, stronger than something that could so easily be torn apart. I was wrong. And I'm learning to accept it, but I guess it's hard to accept that something wasn't what you thought it was, only because it felt so real. I remember when we would drive around at night and sing (more like scream) our favorite songs at the top of our lungs. I remember when we would laugh at the stupidest things and have the weirdest inside jokes that any normal human being would find asylum-level insane. I was never tired of you. And God, I remember when I had someone to cry with, to tell secrets to (no matter how embarrassing), to rant to, and most importantly, to share some of the best memories with. Sometimes I wonder if you remember.
I'll be honest, I used to be angry. I was angry when you would call off our plans to be with your boyfriend. I was angry when you took things that seemed special to just us and shared them with other people, making them not-so-special anymore. But most of all, I was angry when you stopped caring. But can someone really stop caring if they never cared in the first place? I don't think you ever really felt feelings but rather imitated them.
I questioned a lot about our friendship. I questioned a lot about you and what made you change. I "used" to be angry. I'm not anymore. If anything, I'm happy for you. Like genuinely so happy for you and how you're finally finding yourself. Because we as humans find ourselves through our experiences and the people we choose to be a part of those experiences. I can accept not being a part of your journey anymore. I understand that the paths people take change and that ours may have strayed too far from each other to ever meet again.
Life is a book. You're the author. But you don't get to write in pencil; you don't get to erase what's already written. You write in pen. You can scribble out words or write over them, but they're always going to be there, under the ink. In your book, I'm under the ink. Our old memories written over with new memories of you and your boyfriend and whoever is in your life nowadays.
In my book, I didn't write over our memories. I couldn't. I always want to remember, but I can't keep waiting for things to go back to the way they once were. But while you've decided to write over a chapter, I've decided to write a new one.
