• That Reminds Me…

    by  • November 10, 2011 • Confession • 0 Comments

    You’re my best friend. It has nothing to do with your personality, your looks, how smart you are. You’re my best friend because you remind me of the love of my life. Him and I aren’t even friends anymore, so I’m settling to be friends with you. You’re a great guy, and I love you very much. I want us to be friends forever. I would do anything you ever asked of me. ANYTHING. That’s why I act like such a whore around you; I don’t want you to ever feel bad asking me for something if it’s sexual, so I act sexual all the time.

    But that isn’t how I really am. I know you know a bit about me, more than I let most people know. You know about my drug problem, about the pregnancy scare (but not the miscarriage I had a few months ago), you know what I look like shirtless, you know about the cutting. I know you’re aware of my depression, even though nobody seems to really care. I know you probably don’t remember, but when I’m sad and you let me eat your food, that’s the only time I eat. The only time I’m comfortable actually eating food is around you. When I go home, I might have a slice of toast or munch on grahm crackers, but I don’t eat real food inless I’m with you. That’s why I’m always ready to pass out by the time we see each other after the weekend.

    I want you to know that you’re an asshole sometimes. It doens’t bother me. I know you don’t treat me with respect as much as you can. I also know that you do so much disrespectful stuff to me, because you’re trying to get me to laugh. You always bring a smile. I’m sure you’ll never realize how much your friendship means to me. To let you in on a little secret, the day we first met I was planning on killing myself. Then we met, and I thought “Well, this could be interesting.”

    I’m sure you’ll hurt me though. You’ll get a girlfriend, and choose her over our friendship. It’s not like I could blame you. Nobody chooses a slutty junkie over their girlfriend. I certainly wouldn’t. You’ll probably hurt me in others way, but indirectly. I’m sure I’ll fall in love with you, and I know you’ll NEVER feel the same. Again, nobody chooses a slutty junkie. I know you value hanging out with me, I’m a great girl for a good time and a cheap laugh.

    You know that if it was what you want I would let you devour me. Eat at my flesh, and my soul.

    I’m sure this all qualifies as some sort of dependency disorder. Oh well. I do feel dependent on you. And I know that’s bad to be so wrapped into you. I’m sure I overwhelm you sometimes.

    I’m moving at the end of the year. I am hoping that maybe I can guilt trip you into a favor. Would you be willing to hold me for half an hour? I would never have to bother you again if you would. I promise, I wouldn’t talk to you anymore if you asked.

    Simply put, you’re my best friend. I love you. Thank you for putting up with me and my fucked up ness. You’re my hero.

    ~J

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