Is it wrong that I am completely disgusted with you? Is it wrong that I now think you completely deserve your overreactions and unhappiness? Is it wrong that I don’t care anymore?
You were my best friend and you had just revealed to me that you cut yourself. And instead of running away like you thought I would, I stayed and told you that I was in recovery of that very same thing. I made you stop cutting. After months and months of being your own personal therapist, seeing to it that you always knew you were loved, and putting all of my time and general health into making sure you’d live another day, I needed help.
I was on the verge of relapse and you ignored me. Wait, I /wish/ you had ignored me. What you actually did was much worse. According to you, I had been being less than the perfect person I was to you over the past few months. So you started “being straightforward” with me. I told you I needed help, and you dismissed it. You started telling me how horrible I was to you. You started telling me that I didn’t respect you. You started telling me that /I/ was one of the major reasons you were always contemplating suicide. To a girl who sacrificed her time, health, good grades, and clean-streak for you, this killed.
I can tell you for certain that I have never cut with the intent of dying like I did that night. Normally I just don’t care if it happens. But I tried to die that night. All because you wouldn’t listen. Is it wrong for me to think that you should have been able to listen once? Especially after I had listened to you every single day for months? Despite what you think, you aren’t the center of my world. Not everything will always revolve around you. But that’s no reason to make the ones who are doing everything they can fell like shit. No one can tolerate that forever. But I did.
When I woke up the next morning, I cleaned myself up and tried to focus on being better. Your little brainwashing session had worked on me. I took everything you said as the truth and tried to learn from it. Being around you made me physically ill. I’m honestly surprised that no one told guidance that I was bulimic or something. But I had to get over it. I had to make sure that you were always going to be okay. It didn’t help that you’d threaten me with cutting every time things weren’t going the way you wanted them to. You knew what that did to me. I didn’t want to care about you anymore, but I couldn’t stop.
I did, however, stop trusting you to be my friend. I turned to the only other person I knew would be willing to talk to me. One of my good friends from grade school. Super sweet person. He was the only person I had left that I considered a friend.
You met him /once/ and decided that he was your one true love. Excuse me while I say FUCK YOU. Your flirtatious and generally whoreish self landed you dates with my best friend, who you were quite aware that I’d had a crush on for a while. As I was trying to distance myself from you, you were infecting parts of my life that I didn’t even mention to you. It was cruel. I didn’t deserve it.
What was worse was that he dumped you. You came crawling back to me for help that I didn’t want to give you. You were still expecting me to /want/ to help you. After everything that happened, you thought I owed you something. You’ve never done anything for me, but I’ve sacrificed everything for you.
You are the reason I want to die. You are the reason I broke my recovery and started cutting regularly again. You are the reason I can’t eat without throwing up. You are the reason I can’t date him even though he likes me. You are the reason that every shred of self-respect and self-confidence I had built up is destroyed.
Maybe it’s not fair to put all the blame on you, but you certainly caused each one of those things to happen. And despite how badly I want everyone to know how much of a bitch you are, I can’t tell them. I can’t break you like you broke me. I could never do that to someone. I guess you’re lucky that you chose to destroy a good person.
Stop trying to guilt me into caring about you now. I cannot handle you anymore. I really didn’t do anything to you that wasn’t well deserved. My continued absence from your life is my last attempt as saving my own. There comes a point when I have to stop being generous and take care of myself. And I just can’t deal with your shit anymore. I’m sorry that I’m not sorry, really.
So, you tell me, is it wrong that I’m completely disgusted with you? Is it wrong that I think you completely deserve your overreactions and unhappiness? Is it wrong that I don’t care?
I don’t think it’s wrong.