I’m going to take these moments to talk about friendship. I can’t guarantee that this discussion will make anyone feel better, or that sending you another communication when you may just want some time alone to sort it out feels like a wise thing to do. However, there are a lot of moving parts to this and I want you to be aware of them. I am not trying to excuse myself. If this is as far as you can go with me, in any capacity, I will be extremely sad, but I will understand and move on.
It has taken me some time to understand that our friendship is difficult for me because you are something of a collision point among two long-held psychological challenges—the acceptance of the social nuances created by personality differences among friends, and the wanting of what is not available to me romantically. It has occurred to me that the combination of those two things could make this an insurmountable thing. I didn’t expect that I would allow my emotional states to turn me into a destructive person, but that is what has happened. I could not be more sorry. To you, to myself.
Communicating with you here has been a lifeline for me. Had it never happened we wouldn’t be anywhere in our friendship. And that adds another layer of difficulty because we can’t talk about this place, right? It’s fine. I understand. But why? Why do you talk to me on here and then so casually ignore me or choose to cluster me together so impersonally with several other people to communicate out there? Am I missing something important about what is required to have a real conversation with you? I know that my behavioral alignment with this place isn’t 100%, but yours is nearly dichotomous in some ways.
I get that it isn’t fair to hold others to expectations that ultimately do not matter. Love is love and if other people say that they love you, it is your job to believe it should you want to keep being loved by them. I’ve told myself several times that every communication doesn’t need to be acknowledged. That if I only communicate a little here and there, perhaps it will be appreciated enough to receive an acknowledgment. That if I seldom poke you about anything, I can’t possibly annoy you. And that maybe, just maybe, one day you’ll initiate a communication with me—just me—more than once every six months. I tell myself these things but I never really believe them. And oddly enough, I get exactly what I do believe about it.
I love you. I will never stop loving you. I do want to be around you. And if I’m going to emotionally stagnate where I can’t show you the love you need to feel comfortable with me, my pragmatism would insist that you not keep me either. But, I also don’t know what you’ve wanted or expected of me because I haven’t learned how to navigate the inconsistencies, and you appear to have lost patience with that. After all, this isn’t really about one hurtful incident for either of us, is it? This is Grade A stored grief over the disappointment that the other person doesn’t read minds. All of the things you said about my behavior in your letter are true. But those observations run both ways.
I’m so sorry and saddened and remorseful that my unchecked, tangled emotional bullshit over this could lead somewhere so awful. Seriously, I’m sorry. I made a terrible mistake. I’m having such a hard time feeling loved right now. It will get better. I hope you’ll be on the other end of that.