(my therapist shakes her head and i can tell my home situation is on the upper levels of screwed up. i tell her i dealt with it with you, and i tell her you’ve rejected my friendship now, and she tells me i’m stuck in the past.)
hey. we were going to be hobos together. live on currencies of lawn decorations. we were going to be all that.
i make friends easily. i talk to strangers. i fall in love with sideways glances and thoroughly enjoy small talk, weather talk, waiting-for-a-bus talk. but i don’t make best friends.
i’ve always assumed a best friend is the person you match up with best. god, years of elementary school surveys dredged up so much angst when i was younger; they’d ask for ‘best friend’ right under ‘favorite color’ or ‘ice-cream flavor’ and i’d look around the room for someone, anyone, i could steal. but no, i was always a gamma ray, somewhere off the wavelength range of my classmates.
when i came to high school, wow. these were people like me, people who operated with similar gears, people with similar interests. writers, artists, dancers; like a little renaissance to a young mind fresh out of public middle school. i sat next to you in my first class. all the other seats were taken. you looked uncomfortable; i was never one for shy introductions.
turns out we lived parallel lives, with just the right flavor of variation. we began to share books, movies, tv shows. i, always guarded, always anxious, dismissed your suggestions, or at least, didn’t give them the respect they deserve. i love the office now! i always would have, if i had stopped watching courtroom dramas i didn’t get, if i wasn’t such an immature brat.
still, you weren’t exactly a pretty posie either. is that a phrase?
but then again i never did understand the place of acerbic jokes towards others as some sort of bonding exercise. was i supposed to laugh at all the times you derided someone’s work?
these are all such insignificant details. sure, i like the bands you suggested. i was too busy thinking it was a competition to have better taste than to enjoy them back then, but the problem was, i didn’t have a taste of my own then. (been loving grizzly bear’s horn of plenty. thanks.) sure, you tended to be a bit passive aggressive (worryingly so) sometimes. if you thought i was being a major dick to you, you’d groan or laugh at me instead of call me on it. whatever.
still, i thought we were best friends. i called us best friends, as frightening and as revealing as it was. and you agreed, unless i mistook that nod in your dad’s car. i go too far, as a general rule, and i went as far as to imagine us traveling the world while our classmates went through college for jobs that didn’t exist, for jobs that would suck them dry. we had motorcycles, no helmets.
then i fell sick. i was going through stuff. shit, if you will. you know my family. you’ve met my mom; imagine that everyday. sometimes it’s easier to lay in bed with a cough that your body refuses to let go of, for weeks. i didn’t talk to anybody then; i was too tired of the accusations, the ‘oh are you really sick’ questions, questions i couldn’t actually answer with the truth: yes. physically to an extent. beyond that i’m depressed and on the verge of a nervous breakdown and my parents are fighting and we missed school earlier in the year to stay in a hotel and most of the pain is based in my mom’s delusions and what the fuck is a 15 year old supposed to do? i’m not fucking playing hooky, i’m living under a self-induced house arrest.
it took me almost all my energy to go back to school, and all of a sudden, i repulsed you? god, what? what could have happened in that short little span that suddenly made you decide you outgrew me? i honestly want to know–tell me something, please. tell me something so i don’t have to continue living with the belief that the girl i thought was my best friend suddenly hated me on an intrinsic level, that any relationship i build could disappear because i am that shitty of a human being. i have built a shell because of that. i was never good at making best friends and now i can’t make real friends at all.
i shudder at invites to friends’ houses, whimper at crowds, shy away from club events. i’m seriously contemplating online school so i can wear a paper bag on my head all day long.
because everyday i live in fear that anyone i care about–anyone whose opinion i value, anyone who begins to share my interests, anyone i dream up beautifully beautifully stupid ideas with–could suddenly piece together the idea that i am worthless. i feel utterly lost in a sea of friends.
and to see you back with the group we hung out with freshman year, to see a reflection of 08-09 except without me; it leaves no question as to who was the least common denominator, who was the first to be voted off the island. and i have no idea why.
tell me it was my hair. tell me i was clingy. tell me i laughed weird. tell me i wasn’t funny, tell me i was a downer, tell me i was ugly, tell me i was stupid, tell me i was a know-it-all, tell me i was aggravating, tell me i was unimportant, tell me i was clumsy, tell me i was mean, tell me i was vengeful, tell me i was an absolute, complete and utter fucking ASSHOLE:
TELL ME SOMETHING, PLEASE, because for all the times i’ve reached out to you and you told me nothing, you’ve been telling me all of those things and more.
i trusted you, you hurt me, and i want to know why.