Before I let everything else spill out, I want to confess something to you. You were the first person I think I ever really loved, and I haven’t really loved anyone since. I haven’t felt anything for anyone since, as hard as I’ve tried. I’m not sure if there is something missing from me, but I know it hasn’t always been. I think you have it. So now that melodrama part 1 is over, I’ll move on to the sequel- Melodrama 2: The Angst Strikes Back.
I let everyone believe everything is ok. My catchphrase is everything’s fine. I take in everyone else’s secrets, their betrayals and their lies and I hold on to them. But I have my own secrets. I feel like I’m falling apart. I don’t think there is anything holding me here anymore. I want to go home, but I don’t know where that is. And if I went back there, I don’t think anyone would be waiting for me. I’m 19. I’ve never experienced any real, significant trauma. My life has been fine. My parents are together, and everything looks perfect to the people outside. They meet my parents and wonder what is wrong with me, why I turned out so cold and harsh. But you can’t see everything from outside. You can’t see the disease, the psychosis, the stress, and the loneliness when you only look for a minute. And thats the problem. People never stay; I make friends, and I keep them for about a year. I don’t know if its because people learn all they want to know about me, or if its because they see my problems, and they don’t want to stick around; or maybe I just don’t want anyone to really know me. Sometimes I push people away, and I think its when they start to know me the best. When they start to acknowledge the flaws I didn’t want them to know I had. I knew you for twelve years, and I loved you for a good deal of them, but I never let you see those flaws. And you left me anyways. You took a twelve year friendship, and you just erased it- you would see me in the hallways and I was like glass to you, you just looked straight through me- and you never gave me a chance to ask what I did. I did everything right, I think. I set you up with my best friend, because I knew you liked her, and after I did that I went home and cried. I watched you two together, and you were happy for a while, but she didn’t return the feelings. For once, when the two of you broke up, instead of coming to me for consolation, you blamed me. You blamed me for the pain you felt because I encouraged your relationship with her. I just wanted you to be happy, because I knew that wasn’t something I could ever give you, or something you could ever want from me. You never looked at me like I was a girl anyways; I was always your unattractive, androgynous best friend. Now people try to tell me I’m beautiful, and I can’t even comprehend it, because when I was so close with you, I felt like I constantly lived in the shadow of every other girl you ever told me about. When you were around, and when you cared, I felt like I was important to someone. But when you stopped, I felt like a shell and I felt like I didn’t have a tie life in the world. I wish I could blame you for my self esteem problems, but those are so deeply rooted, I can’t even pretend they started with you. But you helped. This letter isn’t intended to be an attack, and I guess it doesn’t matter, since you’ll probably never read it, but I think what you did jump-started my issues with abandonment. I’m so terrified my friends are going to leave, I will give up practically anything just to please them. You were the first person to know about my issues with self-harm, and you didn’t know what to say. Our friendship was already on the decline. I had stopped being the person you called every night, stopped being the person who you surprised every year on her birthday, stopped being someone you loved. But I think I always wanted to believe you would be there if I really needed you, and you weren’t. I was in tears when I told you, and you looked at me with something akin to disdain, but you tried to hide it. I saw the look on your face and I went completely numb inside; I knew that in telling you I had made a mistake that would end our friendship. In the end, it was an awkward moment that we never spoke of again. Hell, after that we hardly spoke again. Only two months after that you stopped speaking to me completely. I finally worked up the courage to tell someone else three years later, and shortly after that our friendship ended too. Five months ago I trusted someone else with this, and I felt so guilty because I didn’t want him to feel responsible for me like my sister does, my sister who always checks my wrists and my legs when ever she sees me with a look of dread and resignation on her face. And the hardest part is that she has to live with the knowledge that she will always find something when she looks. And now he’s started to pull away too. He says nothing is wrong, but I’m terrified. I don’t think I can handle losing anyone else.
After a couple of unanswered calls from you, I realized what had happened and I decided it would be better if I gave up. I don’t know if it was or not, or if that was a mistake. Maybe you needed help, but so did I, and I almost made a terrible mistake because there was no one to stop me. I hated you for that for a while, I was bitter and angry. But now, now I’m just sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t the person you wanted me to be, I’m sorry I couldn’t be who you needed, and most of all, I’m sorry I let you destroy me. So if you ever happen to come to this website, and read this letter, and wonder if maybe it was that girl from years ago, yeah, it is. And if you’re the same person you were then, you probably don’t think you did anything wrong. And who knows, maybe you didn’t, but you didn’t do anything right either. I hope you have a happy life, and I hope you remember who I was; maybe someday I’ll be able to too.