Originally Written: 5/1/13
Sometimes I wonder if I overplayed our friendship. As in, I make it more than it was. Because I want to feel hurt. I want you to be wrong. Ultimately I know I blamed everything on me, but, somewhere, down there, I want you to be in the wrong. You hurt me, the end. I suppose it’s just because it is so much easier to superimpose that there was more than there really was.
I think about it often, that you were the one I told everything to. But I didn’t. I didn’t tell you anything about my dad or my anxiety and how it made me sick when I was young. Perhaps this idea- was really more in a form of nakedness in the mind. You were the one person I never felt like I had to be anything with. So in that way, I was completely myself. You were also the first major best friend I had had. Sure, I had friends in elementary but it was different this time around.
But, were you really that special? I think perhaps I regard you this highly is not so much for the fact that you were specifically were special- it was the fact that you made me feel special, appreciated and wanted. At least- in the first part of our friendship. You constantly told my how I was one of the smartest, most unique tastes in music and most interesting person you knew. You especially told these to me when I was down, when I confessed I wasn’t doing great…etc. Is that why you’re special? Because I told you that things were bad? Sure I didn’t go into the details but you were the only friend I told. Besides A- she doesn’t count.
Everybody wants to feel wanted; they want to know someone out there would be worse off without them. Different, special, whatever you want to call it. It fills that hole inside us that constantly tells us we need to belong somewhere. You made me into that monster that craved that (Was it your or was it me?). Ever since, the hole has gotten bigger. Once you know what you could have, having less feels so much more worse.
I hope you are well.
I hope you are getting your GED.
I hope you found someone else to care about.