carrots-and-tater-tots

[carrots-and-tater-tots]

[carrots-and-tater-tots]

If You're Reading This, I'm sorry.

Dear you,

It has been approximately 28 days since we last spoke. 28 days since I decided to go “Gone Girl” and blow up the entire friendship. 28 days since I left group chats, unfollowed all of our friends, and pretended the world was dead. During this time, there were a lot of reflections. I truly haven’t known a peaceful life until now. You would be shocked at the number of people who were proud of me when I told them what happened, even if I insist that what I did was horrible. But, in all, I’ve been doing good. But, as we get closer to the one-month anniversary, some of the residual guilt has been eating me alive. And I think I want to finally bring this story to a close, as much as I can.

You may have already seen my manifesto to Savannah. If you haven’t, I will summarize because it’s 7 pages long and I would rather not write it out again. To make a long story short, I noticed I was being pushed to the side. People were not making the same efforts to see me as they were doing with Kat even though I lived closer and lived there for longer. The one time people did come to visit my city, I was a pity invite, and expected to drive all over God’s green earth to find the Walmart they were at because no one could care enough to look at what highway the Walmart was nearby. I was an enigma to y’all despite knowing everyone for over 5 years, people were overriding events that I had planned, and it got too much so I decided to leave. Not only did I plan everything, but I also confided in someone about what I planned to do. Frankly, I don’t want to know the aftermath of what happened in the friend group. I highly doubt you’ll even see this and know that it’s addressed to you. Savannah and Kat told me that you were Team “Give her space”, and I can’t tell if I’m a bit disappointed or if I’m grateful. I’m not going to sit here and say what I did wasn’t fucked up. It absolutely was. It was dramatic, overzealous, stupid, and above all toxic. I am also not going to say that I regret what I did. At the end of the day, though I’m not proud of how I did it, what I did was the best choice for me. Frankly, I don’t think there was another way for our friendship to end without me sacrificing my happiness for the nth time. But I owe you an apology specifically, even if you don’t read this.

I haven’t been truthful to you during our friendship. In case it wasn’t obvious enough, I liked you. I had a crush on you for about 3 years, starting when I came home from my first winter break during college. I’m not going to go into the specifics of why it happened, how I tried to kill the crush myself a million times, or how I spent nights upon nights overanalyzing each and every single interaction. I knew that I would never have a chance with you. Why would I? You were this gorgeous being who dazzled every room you walked into, the personification of Artemis herself. I was more aligned with the ugly duckling, never growing into my resting bitch face and unconventional features. Plus, you were so cool and were (and continue to be) this awesome person. As much as I liked you, I liked having you as a friend so much more, and I knew that if I said anything it would blow everything up. So, it was best if I kept my mouth shut, thinking if I didn’t talk about my feelings then they wouldn’t exist anymore. Clearly, that did not work. You would think that after so long, I would at least say something. If you thought that, you clearly don’t know that much about me and are therefore proving my point.

I used to write about you, you know. I wrote about you a lot—too much if I am being honest. In my work, I used to beg for you to give me the bare minimum. Although I had dedicated so much to you in my story, I wanted to be just anything in yours even if it was small. A sentence, a footnote, I would have even taken an endnote. Anything to prove that I had made an impact on your life. Between you and me, I also used to say that you could convince me to stay in our town. I hated it there, that’s why I left. I used to keep track of the days to graduation because it meant that it was only one more day closer to being able to leave. But all you had to say was “Stay” or “Come back,” and I would have done so. You could have even said, “Let me come with you,” and I would have made room. And though I will never admit it verbally and will actively deny it, the same is true for the situation in which I left. I was used to being brushed aside from the others. But from you, it pushed me to the edge. For about 30 minutes before I made my ultimate move, I begged the stars and the streetlights for a sign, a reason to stay. It may not seem like it, but I would have stayed if you texted. It was even true after everything had happened. As much as I appreciate the apology and peace offerings I got from Savannah and Kat, it put a sour taste in my mouth. Felt too much like they were apologizing because I was mad and they didn’t want me to be mad anymore (truth be told, I wasn’t mad. I was never mad at anyone; I was angry at the situation). I don’t think I would have changed my decision to distance myself from everyone. But, if it were you, I would have made an exception. And maybe that is unfair to you. It’s toxic to assume that someone will know exactly how you are feeling without telling them. I completely understand that and never had that expectation of you. Regardless, it would have been nice to know someone cared before I left.

In short, because if you know me at all, you know that once I get started I never shut up: I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I stopped talking to you out of nowhere. I’m sorry that I wasn’t truthful to you during our friendship. I’m sorry that I kept everything in as opposed to actually talking to you and everyone else. I’m sorry our friendship had to end like this.

There is so much that I want to say to you. Maybe someday I will. Maybe someday I’ll get raging drunk and send you a text expressing everything to you (I almost did once, on Halloween a few years ago. I’ve been searching for that bravado ever since.) Maybe someday I’ll look back on all the good parts of our friendship and regret ever leaving you. A twisted part of me wants to fantasize about you reaching out to me first. Maybe you felt the same way. Maybe you had the same shock of electricity go through you when you adjusted my shirt in the dressing room. Maybe your heart also swelled to the faux domesticity during our talks in the kitchen at Claremont. Maybe you also had several drunken nights pouring your heart out to the stars and moon above your window. Maybe you would have left if I invited you to. Maybe you’ve been pushing your feelings down like I had. Or maybe none of that is true. Maybe you think of me and miss me as a friend. Maybe you don’t feel right knowing how poorly we ended. Maybe you wanted us to try to be better friends. Maybe someday we will reconnect. Someday.

Yours,

Me