It has been almost three months since we’ve last talked. How are you? How’s life? Is school going well for you?
…didn’t think I would actually be nice to you, eh? Especially after you cut me off back in August with a simple message on Facebook.
There’s a saying, you know, that when you break up with someone (either romantically or friendship-wise) via text, you’re seen as a coward. Someone who can’t tell the other in person that they want to go their separate ways. Someone who didn’t have the guts to look the other in the eye as those hurtful words drip out of their mouth.
Do I see you as a coward? Yes…and no. This wasn’t the first time you hurt me, L. Remember three years ago? When you messaged me, once again on Facebook, that I had hurt you, like a “slap to the face,” as I quote. You were always the one for being dramatic, but it wasn’t funny at all. Your words hurt me just as badly, and I didn’t know what I could do to repair the damage. Except to beg for forgiveness in hopes of saving our friendship.
You ended up forgiving me for what I had said, but you also added that it was too late to take back those words and that our friendship would never be the same afterwards.
To this day, I still don’t understand why those words I said hurt you; I was merely telling the truth. Bluntly, yes, but it was after years of frustration of having to listen to you complain and talk about your life, without much regard to my life or my feelings. I tried to be there for you whenever you were feeling low, but unfortunately, I can’t say the same for you when I was hurting, physically and emotionally.
I’m sorry that I can’t always be in a good mood to cheer you up when you’re feeling down. I’m sorry that I can’t be there for you when I’m halfway across the world for my job. And I’m sorry that I can’t be your wall to vent on when you want to complain about school, your mom, your life.
…because reality-check, this wall has a heart. It has emotions. It has dark, sad thoughts from time to time because it’s human nature to do so.
I should’ve seen the warning signs. They were already there when we first became friends over five years ago, when we were still young, hopeful high schoolers just trying to feel accepted in life. From the incessant complaints and one-sided conversations on Facebook to you laughing at my attempts to treat you well with a poem and a nice, recommended restaurant. Fyi, you trashed my poem with your flippant attitude towards the serious subject; I was serious, you know, trying to save our friendship that time when we had fought. Never again would I give you something like that again.
…and I should’ve known that this friendship wouldn’t be sustainable, not when I had feelings of anxiety whenever your message popped up on Facebook, initiating conversation and all. For the longest time, I didn’t know why I was feeling anxious, even exasperated, that you were talking to me, but now I know. Because I already felt that it was going to be a one-sided conversation, no matter what I wrote.
You really have a way of playing with emotions, from your indecisiveness to the fact that you get easily insulted over the smallest things. When you asked me to help with your application essays for college, I was glad you considered me, and I did my best. Take or leave it, I didn’t mind, but in the end, it didn’t seem like you appreciated what I had to offer, even calling it insulting at times. I was insulted that you thought I was insulting you, but I didn’t say anything. Because remember: I didn’t want you to cut off our friendship again.
Which brings me to three months ago, when you decidedly cut me off with a caustic rant about how I was “never there for [you] when [you] needed help” and how you “wondered about our friendship sometimes,” being good and all. Ouch.
You’re exactly right, L. I’ve also wondered about our friendship sometimes, too. For the past FIVE years. I admit, there were some things that I’ve said that I’m not proud of, but they were nothing near as damaging as the words you retaliated back with. They were nasty, L, and it was beyond shocking that you, a mature, twenty-something woman, could ever react like that, in a childish, tantrum way.
No more of this “pretend to be civil” bullshit. Grow up, L. Actually try to care about people for once in your life, can you? Not everyone’s a competition and life isn’t about capitalistic greed. I know you want to be successful, but you’re letting that determine which “friends” you choose to be around. Perhaps I came off as “smart and successful” back in high school, but now I guess that magic has worn off, eh? As you had told me back a few years ago, when I told you that I had declared my major in English in college, that “no offense, but I think the English major is pointless. There’s not too many options out there for the field, you know? Do you know what you’re going to do after graduation?”
First of all, when you start a sentence with “no offense, but…”, it’s going to be offensive. Second, I was very hurt and very angry that you had the nerve to say that to me, judging my life choices when you’ve told me not to judge people (namely, you). I can’t say the same for you and your major: true, you’re a Science major, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that you’ll be happy in life. Sure, you can be a doctor and earn lots of money for doing so, but does happiness equate with capitalistic ventures? I’m not saying that being rich is a bad thing, but think twice when you put someone down who doesn’t want to major in the same field as you. Have some tact.
I could go on and on, even curse at you for all we’ve been through over these last five years. I guess what’s making it hard for me to let go and move on is that, despite our disagreements and bad moments, we’ve also had good ones, filled with laughter and inside jokes. Even after three months, I still think back to that day when you decided to shut me out…and it appears that it’s for good this time.
At the same time, I think it’s for the best. If this were to have happened three years ago, I would’ve been upset and beg for you to speak to me again. But this time, I think I’m done, too. This friendship isn’t worth saving, and certainly not by me. It’ll take time for me to move on, and it’ll take time for me to remove you from my contacts (I’ve started with Instagram; perhaps next will be Facebook). Again, I don’t like it, but I think it’s for the best.
This letter is my break-up to you, L. It’s a way for me to come to terms with letting go of all we’ve been through: the good, the bad, and everything in between. It’s my way of cutting you off, just as you did on Facebook. I’m done, and while I still have resentment towards you, I still wish you the best in life, and hopefully, you’ll learn to accept friends for the way they are. Like how I did with you.
— The Finicky Cynic
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