So I met up with Sarah today, and we caught up a lot. It kind of hurt a bit to hear her talk about you because it made me wonder how often you seemed to contact her, but how little you do with me. But then I hated myself for that because what right do I have to think something like that? I’m in absolutely no position to expect that.
Still, I thought email correspondence would be enough because the principle behind it is knowing someone is on the other side, listening to what I have to say. That kind of died out though, I’m not sure if its just that I needed to see the listener face to face, or the fact that it feels like I’m writing to an empty hole in cyberspace. I heard from Sarah that you’re really busy though, so its understandable. My sister was like that too actually, when she was in training for her job, she would be staying up all night studying, and sometimes didn’t even come home.
You know how I mentioned how it takes me so much effort, especially at night, to keep my mind from wandering towards depressing thoughts? I thought coming back to school would help with that, starting classes and all – but now I’m scared because its here, on campus, where a lot of those depressing thoughts came from. Walking through college town only reminds me of that time I started walking, just walking, after I got drunk, wishing I had the courage (or cowardice?) to walk off the cliff. Walking up the stairs through my apartment complex, reminds me of you because its so close to your old apartment. Walking by the dumpsters where I was too drunk to walk home, and you had to come pick me up and drive me. Walking by the bench where I met up with you to tell you about how I feel about you, expecting you to end it by not reciprocating, only for it to become worse when you said you might have feelings for me too. And it was ironic I ran past that spot with Sarah today, so it made me feel so guilty – I tried to fix that by inviting her over and giving her a LOT of kimchi. I guess that sort of helped, it seemed to make her so happy.
I think there’s something really weird about me. People I should hate, or at least avoid for my own mental health, I hang out with more. I really must be masochistic. But Sarah really is my friend, so I really don’t want to let her go – even though every time she talks about you, I want to jump off the gorge again. Sometimes I wonder if it would just have been easier if I was like those typical petty girls you see on reality TV, the ones who plot and backstab and are generally evil bitches that are fun to hate and look down on for their pettiness.
Sometimes it isn’t always painful, remembering you – of course it was super fun going on all those ski trips, just talking and relaxing and knowing you’re not judging me, listening to you talk and feeling good that I was able to reciprocate, at least marginally helping you too by listening to your problems. Going out to parties and socializing more because of you. Maybe that was your purpose in my life, to get me out of my shell more. I can’t tell yet if it worked – I feel like I did come out more, but because you were a double edged sword, this semester I’m afraid I’ll just withdraw even more than I had before. I think that’s the perfect way to describe you – a double edged sword. All I can do is wait to see which side cut deeper. I still can’t decide though which will help me more – continuing to write to you (for real, not this fake kind of letter), or cutting it off completely so I can start forgetting. But then again, maybe that cutting off will just happen naturally – it already feels like that’s happening, so maybe I won’t really have to worry about making that kind of decision.
Anyway, I really do hope you’re doing well – I realize I kind of sounded resentful in this entire email. Which maybe I am, a little, but more than that, I really wish I could be a better friend. Knowing how much you willingly listened to my pathetic complaining about every little thing, it makes me want to repay you, or make you happy in some way, or at least contribute in even the smallest way to making your life better. This must be what a true debt feels like. Maybe it hurts that you don’t write as much to me because I thought I could be that friend you could really talk to, but I have to keep telling myself that that isn’t my role in your life and I can’t ever expect to be.