Lately, I've been thinking about you. Not in the creepy sense, but rather in the "I miss you" sense. I've made new friends since we talked last and really care about them, but something is missing in those friendships. Something that we had and somehow lost. I equate our end to a break-up. To me, it was sudden and painful but I think you knew you didn't want to be my sister anymore. I think we had been drifting because life had pulled us in opposite directions.
I wonder if you remember the guy I was telling you about. The one I totally shouldn't have liked but did anyways. The one I shouldn't have gone after but did anyways. I wonder if you think about the past the way I do. Do you wonder if I'm happy at college? I wonder if you even wonder about me? When I look into your life through pictures or social media, I see how well you are doing and it aches. I'm proud of you. You look so happy and I want that for you, even if you may not feel the same for me.
We all have these friends that we "broke up" with but miss terribly. It doesn't matter if you did it or they did, it hurts just the same.
You see, I've been thinking about how when I'm with my friends that something is missing with our friendships. I make a joke and they don't get it. I refer to myself as the nickname you used to call me, and they look at my funny. They don't have the same hobbies and likes. They aren't like us where everything matched. We loved the same things, and my new friends don't even know what they are when I mention them. I know that when I make a joke about something inappropriate, you would've understood and laughed with me. I know you would've gotten it and we would've laughed until we had tears running down our faces. We were like two peas in a pod. So what happened?
Why am I here thinking about a friend I used to know and still care about? Why doesn't she miss me like I miss her? Does she think my ex-friend would've gotten this or loved to do that, like I do for her? Why do I hurt so much still? Why haven't I found someone with that something? I try, really, I do. For a while, I forget about you but then I see a memory on Facebook or I think about how we first met, and the thoughts just come rushing back. I realize I cherished our friendship more. I don't mean it in an insulting way, but I realized I needed you more than you needed me. I needed a friend to talk to and bounce ideas off of. To you, I was good to rant to when you had the time or when you needed something. Our friendship was disproportionate and I didn't care. I loved you like you were my twin and we got separated at birth. To you, I was a friend. A best friend, but never anything more. To me, you were blood.
I really do think about the first time we met, quite often. I think how I never expected you to worm your way into my inner circle and replace the best friend I had already. I never expected to bond over shared interests and family life. I never realized we would become best friends and that we would graduate together, even then still staying friends. You swept into my life, leaving permanent marks. A part of me still wishes you'll be my maid of honor at my wedding and that my kids will call you Auntie. I still have hope that we can be friends, even after that fight.
That fight was so dumb, I actually laugh about it. I don't know how things got so out of control. Emotions were running high, I guess. I know you felt like I got upset for no reason, but I was dealing with a lot that I hadn't told you about. I felt that I couldn't tell you what that quote meant to me. I got so defensive, so quickly, over you "just stating your opinion" because I was handling how I was raped. I was so ashamed to tell you. I didn't know how. Everyone was happy about my first time, so how could I tell you that I begged him to stop, that I wasn't ready? How I would cry every time it happened and then all the way home? I should've told you what that quote meant to me. I'll tell you now, though. "If you are pushing yourself to do something, even a little, then it's a mistake." I was pushing myself to be with my rapist out of fear of failure. I wanted someone to tell me that I was strong and to get away from the abuse. You couldn't have known that, of course, and I shouldn't have expected you to. But I wish you had seen something was wrong with me because I desperately wanted to tell you. I desperately needed my friend.
Does everything make sense now? Why I reacted the way I did? I'm not saying it was right or even justified but things just got so out of hand, so quickly. I was in a bad place. I was in pain and losing my best friend was the nail in my coffin. My fear and wounds changed me, but if they hadn't, I wouldn't have gotten help. I finally told someone and mourned the part of me that was stolen. I think without that fight I wouldn't have done what I needed to heal. Maybe I had to lose everything to finally find myself again.
So here I am, at the end, and I just wanted to tell you: I love you and thank you for being my best friend. I'm sorry for the way things ended. I am sorry I didn't tell you. I'm sorry I hurt you. I miss you.
I love you, always.