I want to say so many things to you.

We were so close once, we all were. It wasn't that long ago that we were planning on going to each other's weddings, making each other pee our pants with laughter, having movie nights, playing Cards Against Humanity, and sharing inside jokes.

I don't know what changed. All I know is that one day, part of the group splintered away from me, and even though I tried to pull it back, I knew it was futile. Maybe I shouldn't have bothered; in the end, the showed their true colors. They were mean, rude, callous, and determined to be right--or maybe just prove me wrong. They interrupted our conversations to get your attention back. They made fun of me, of what I believe in, and on one occasion, things got violent.

And you. Said. Nothing.

I understand not wanting to make waves. Personally, I avoid confrontation whenever possible. I get that your significant other was placed over your friends. What I don't understand is you being able to sit and stare at the TV while something was thrown. I don't understand you staying quiet when barbs were dealt out like cards. I don't understand you answering to someone else's beck and call. I don't understand why, when you have to say "don't tell her I said this, she'll get mad," I turned out to be the problem, not the person you couldn't be open with. I don't understand you and I having a conversation about something we're both passionate about only to be interrupted by scorn and you, you shut down immediately. One sentence from someone else was all it took to turn off the connection we had for two years.

You shouldn't have had to pick a side. I never asked you to be my knight in shining armor. Even if you had spoken up, what was broken wouldn't have been repaired, but maybe something could have been salvaged. You should be able to cross the bridge, not be forced to burn it because someone else said so.

You didn't tease or get physical. You didn't ignore me or make me feel stupid. No, instead, you made me feel like I was going crazy--crazier--like this was all in my head, as if I was the only one who could see it.

That was worse. The silence hurts more.

When I saw you after a whole summer apart--when you didn't even say goodbye--you completely ignored me again. All of you did. I wasn't surprised. You asked me a question to be polite then immediately turned to someone else when I started to answer. When I saw you again a few days later, you called out to me like we were old friends. I had to pinch myself to make sure I hadn't dreamed it. The difference, I knew, was that the others weren't around. If you can only be my friend when no one else is there, you're not my friend, n matter how much it hurts to let you go.

Nostalgia is a cruel beast. I see the way we were through rose-colored glasses, but hindsight has given me a clear few of the cracks that were there from the beginning. This didn't happen overnight. Our little clique breaking up was inevitable, once you piece together all the little rude comments, the gossip, who was talking behind whose back.

Now I see you--any of you--and my head spins. Because you're all fine and intact. I'm the only one who was ever missing pieces. Maybe you wonder about me too. Maybe when you see me on campus you wonder where I'm going, too. Or maybe I'm wrong. Maybe you hated me as much as the rest of the group did, and were just better at hiding it. Whatever it was, I wish you had at least been honest. They might be your friends, but so was I.