pen pal - trixya

chapter 9

September 5th, 2015. Sunday, 12:03 a.m.

From: iqkitty @ gmail.com

To: brightredscare @ gmail.com

Subject: I fucked up

Dear Jodie,

I think I'm a bad person. No, okay, not a bad person, but definitely a terrible friend. Do you know what else I am? Drunk. So bear with me.

D just left. We were supposed to have a sleepover. It would have been the first in, like, a million years, but I fucked up, and now I'm here, sitting on my living room floor by myself. We had never fought or had an argument before, so I don't know if all of the things I'm feeling right now are just the shock of the impact of having a fight with her for the first time ever or if it was a really bad fight. It might be both. I suck.

The worst part is that she's right about every single thing she told me. I know I'm in the wrong, but I'm also too much of a pussy to admit it. I know it's the right thing to do, but that implies in telling the truth, and my brain... I don't think I can do that. Not yet, at least. I would seriously consider moving to Siberia before having to say anything to D.

Oh. Funny how maybe that's part of what makes me a shit friend. I'm pretty sure that one of the most important parts of friendship is to trust your friend, to find comfort in them, and know they won't judge you, no matter what. I know deep in my bones that if I asked D to help me hide a body, Goodbye Earl style, she would. She already does that every other day when I have my fits at school and need someone to clean up after me. UGHHHHHHHHH. I'm an asshole. I don't deserve D or any of what she does for me, and she does a lot.

Basically, I'd been flaking on her for a while. I was tired and busy, going back to school really took its toll on me and I had absolutely no leftover energy. Especially now that I'm talking to you - I don't want you to feel bad about this, but talking to you sometimes tires me out because you reach a few parts of me I'm not too keen on exploring and going there, bringing that up, that fucking sucks. I always feel amazing after, and that's more on me than it is on you, but I also have to make sure not a soul will know of your existence, which is also a little tiring. Again, that's on me, not on you. Oh, not to mention that I have a social interaction limit, and now that I talk to you so often......... Yeah, other people miss their spots sometimes. I don't mind that, though. I like talking to you because I know all of the uncomfortable feelings that I get mean that it's working. You really do help me see things from a new perspective and face my own demons or whatever, and as exhausting as that is, to know you're there in the end, and the way that I feel... It's worth it. Every second. Thanks.

Anyway, not the point. What I'm trying to say is that D and I have been kinda drifting apart... Well, no, I'm the one who's been keeping my distance, to be honest. Last night she was telling me about the guy she likes, and even though she rambled for what felt like hours I didn't catch his name. I wasn't even trying. She confronted me about how I've been acting weird, canceling on her, barely even talking, being snappy, never letting go of my phone, and about how I had a panic attack out of the blue the other day and didn't want to tell her about it even though she's the one who helped me through it.

She's right. I have been doing all of those things, and as easy as it would be to blame it on you, I've been enough of an asshole for now. D has nothing to do with the fact that I have a secret, it literally should not affect her, but it does, because the way I'm dealing with it makes it so that she gets the worst out of all of this. I mean, I actually have two secrets. One of them is that I like girls and the other is you.

Does that offend you? I'm not embarrassed of you, it's just... I'm already a weirdo, I don't want to be the weirdo with an anonymous friend. For all I know you could be a forty-year-old man with a neckbeard who only wears Hawaiian shirts, so spare me the trauma of having to share that with the world. The idea of word getting around about this and people looking at me like "oh, look at that poor thing who has to rely on a stranger on the internet because she can't even talk to her own friends" sends chills down my spine. Not that you're a stranger, that you're definitely not. I have a feeling I know you better than anyone else in your life knows you right now, that you always come to me with all of you, and I like that. I've never seen your face, but at the same time, you're the furthest thing away from a stranger that anyone could be. Sometimes that scares me, but I think it's part of the process. I like knowing all of you. It's fascinating. You're fascinating.