To my toxic friend.
It started with that skype group chat. I called the group when I was bored in the middle of the night. Out of the 11 participants, only you and her answered. It started off as just joking around late at night. We started a little club, and didn’t let anyone else in. We played stupid kids games and messed around. We laughed at stupid jokes. You sat with us at lunch. We stayed up through the night, whispering, abruptly turning our phones off when footsteps echoed through the hallways leading to our rooms. We ignored our problems, for the most part. We ignored your constant slurs and offensive statements.
That wasn’t all we ignored. We ignored the fact that you and your perverted friend gazed at girls who had big asses. We ignored the fact that you judged our worth based on our bra size. You made jokes about mental disorders, race, sexuality, gender, everything offensive you could. However, we ignored it. We trusted you. We enjoyed your company enough to ignore everything you said. I ignored the constant hate speech against the LGBT community, and spent school days worrying one of my close friends would tell you I’m bisexual. She ignored the constant racial slurs.
One night, you claimed you were going to take a shower. She and I talked about the people we liked. When you came back, you told me you had a crush on me. I appreciated the gesture, but I didn’t return the feeling. I accepted it, life went on, and we didn’t care. Then, you started leaving.
Every day you would leave the group. I’d add you back, you call us, we hang out, you leave. Over and over and over, every day. I didn’t know why. Every time you left, I’d beg you not to because I genuinely enjoyed your company. She was indifferent, but still had fun when you were in the call. This was the beginning of the end.
Months pass. I had crushes and a couple boyfriends, and she liked a certain boy as well. Since you and her had become distant, she didn’t tell you, but she told me. I kept her secret. You pressured her to tell you, finally convincing her when you told her you would give her the part of homework she was missing. She told you, she trusted you, and you told everyone. You told your perverted friend who spewed slurs twice as much as you. You told friends who you weren’t even close with. You told my friends who you claimed you weren’t close to. You came damn close to telling the boy himself. She still forgave you, and every secret you told us we never said.
In the last months that we called, I told you many things about my life. I told you about my family issues. I told you about my body image issues, my struggle with anorexia, my high risk of Tourettes syndrome. I told you about boys that I liked, my struggle with relationships, everything. Mainly, you knew about my issues with body image and anorexia. You knew I was 10lbs underweight and trying everything to gain that back. You knew how hard I was trying not to starve myself. I thought you cared, but I guess you didn’t.
Flash forward a month or so, you tell us you don’t want to be my friend anymore. I cried for multiple hours. I laid in my beanbag chair wishing I were dead. I considered you one of my best friends. I ignored your bad parts. I don’t know why you couldn’t ignore mine. She didn’t mind. She was still angry at you for you telling everyone the one secret she shared with you. We both were angry that you went to your perverted best fried after all this. We, the friends who stayed with you through every problem you told us, the friends who opened up to you and enjoyed your company, the friends who were the most positive friends you had and the only ones who tried to drive you away from the dangerous, rude, horrible lifestyle you promoted, were the friends you dropped. The friends you kept were the slur-spewing, negative, angry, scamming friends who never trusted you at all. The perverted best friend who judges women on purely their ass and tits, who firmly believes that women belong in the kitchen.
Back to my body image issues, you became perverted. You had listened to my problems less than 3 months before, but you didn’t care about them. You called me a whore. You called me a slut. You called me a stick, a board, flat, bones, everything. Why did I deserve this. You told the boy she liked that she liked him, and made fun of her for her social anxiety. Why did you do this to us, when we had been nothing but trusting and accepting?
Hoping you do well,
The whore you left behind