Before I met you, I was a drifter. I was the person everyone was nice to, but nobody thought to call when they were bored or out hanging out. I knew how to keep my distance because I had been hurt, excluded, let down by friends before.
But that all changed when I met you, or so I thought. I was still shy, hesitant to let you in even though I yearned for a connection to someone. I wanted a best friend, someone I could lean on, talk to at all hours of the night, someone who didn’t judge me, someone I could laugh with and someone who wouldn’t get sick or annoyed by me. For a while, you were that person for me. You were the best friend I could ever ask for, and I did my best to return the favor, because deep down you were just as lonely as I was.
I believed you when you said you would never leave, when you said I was like a sister to you. But our nightly phone conversations (where we would talk for hours without even realizing it) turned into once a week forty-minute conversations, which then turned into maybe once a month if I was lucky. When I would tell you what was bothering me, I could feel you rolling your eyes through the phone, I heard you sigh before eventually telling me to grow up because you’d heard all this before. Distance changed you. Or maybe it changed me. It changed our friendship. When we would meet up to hang out, it would be like the beginning of our friendship, we laughed and cried and shared memories. You would apologize for being so distant and make empty promises to make an effort to keep in touch. I believed those promises.
Now, we’re lucky if we see each other once a month. We never talk on the phone (because you don’t like talking on the phone, or so you tell me now). I text you, hoping for a quick reply back. I’m lucky if you even respond; most times my texts are ignored. That hurts me more than you could ever know. I let you in, I told you things I had never told anyone. We helped each other through depression, anxiety, life problems. I thought we had a bond. We did have a bond. We don’t anymore. You’ve moved on, and I’m stuck in the delusion that you’ll be your old self again, that you’ll want to talk to me, tell me about your life.
Last night, I had a dream. You know those bad dreams where if you wake up in the middle of it, and you fall back asleep, the dream picks up where you left off? It was one of those. My dream was that I was confessing to you how betrayed I felt by you, how i missed you and our friendship so much, and you didn’t even care. You walked away from me. When I woke up, I was sad. Because I know while I was tossing and turning all night trying to get rid of this terrible dream where I lost my best friend, you were sleeping peacefully, not a care in the world.
And my heart hurts because I know it wasn’t just a dream, it was reality. And somehow, I need to let you go. I can’t hold on to someone who doesn’t want to stay. I’m just not sure I’m strong enough for that.