Dear J,
You'd expect me to start of with an apology, but as selfish as it seems, I'm not sorry. As sick as it seems to not feel bad for what I've said and done, I don't apologize. Not one bit.
But that's not the point, and I know you have a tendency to focus on one part rather than the whole, just read this. And think. Because honestly I'd rather give you a letter and disappear without a trace than have a civil conversation, knowing how'd it turn out.
Maybe I am sorry, for some of it. But I'm only sorry because sometimes I still think of the sweet girl who had everyone wrapped around her fingertips without even a moment's notice. The girl who was out of everyone's league. The smart girl who knew exactly what she wanted, the girl who, even if it was fake, smiled through every tear, through everything that seemed to hit her across the head. The girl who was my best friend. I know she's dead. I know she's gone to somebody I don't know, to a stranger, to a person I can barely talk about without reminiscing. So I'm taking this letter to the girl that I hate, but can never truly hate, as somewhere maybe in the depths of the Earth, the girl still somehow lingers. Maybe she's truly gone, and I'm still mourning somebody who doesn't exist, but hey, life's weird. I write this to say what I have to say, to give you the conversation you never got, but write it for the sake of both our peace. So I never have to see you, and you never have to see me. Again.
You hurt me, a lot. You say I hurt you mentally but you have no idea how much you've killed a part of me I can potentially never have back. A part of my heart that's still being healed. The ability to give my love has tired out because of you. I've broke down sobbing at work because at one point I lost so much because of you. We both dragged our bullshit on. I'm admitting that. I dragged it on at my part, but you've kept going on posting it everywhere for everyone to see, fighting me all because you let it build up that one Friday when I just wanted to sit down and let it all move on, to let both of us move on. It wasn't me that made everyone uncomfortable, it was the tension. The tension that something was going to happen and it did. I sat down and let you have your comfort because you had gotten broken up with and I know that hurts, maybe we're at odds but you're still human and you still deserve love when something's at a low. I never wanted to spite you that day. I wanted to move on. Yeah I fucked up too and chased after you in a cemetery but I was pissed off and manic over something that could've just...never happened? Who knows. I can't really excuse what I did. It happened, we moved on.
You know, J. It hurts to look at you now. Back then I used to admire how pretty you were, how much you brightened a room. But now I look at you out of pity. How you've lost everyone. How you no longer brighten a room and instead either dampen it or just exist in a corner while everyone around you acts like you don't exist, and I hate that for you, and I feel sorry, but at the same time I don't. Because even if you don't want to hear it, you did that to yourself. You dragged yourself down a hole and kept dragging everyone with you until they were at rock bottom just sitting in misery with you. Now look where it got you. You lost Hannah, which is funny. You don't talk to her for nine months then suddenly out of nowhere hit her up when I tell you she doesn't like you anymore. You tell her I basically SA'd you trying to make me seem like the bad guy when I've told her everything, given her everything. Now we're the forever friends. Now the trio has somebody else that isn't you, when you could've stuck by us.
You used to be there at my worst. You used to be one of the people who kept me going no matter what happened, and I did the same for you. No matter what happened last year and this year I truly loved you, in a friend way. You saved me sophomore year. You were the girl who managed to drag me through sophomore year, the popular girl with her loser that followed her like a puppy junior year. For all of that I was thankful. I was grateful. Now you're the one with nothing. The girl who, as much as you hate hearing this, turned into her parents despite the fact she swore she wouldn't ever become like them. But look at you. Why? To avoid the fact it sucks at home? To avoid an aunt who never gave a fuck about you at all? You turned into somebody you hated because of a person you despised most. Somehow we switched places, somehow despite our circumstances turned out in completely opposite directions. You sunk, I started to float. You lost it all, I gained everything. You've gone mad, I've gained control. You've grown childish, I've grown into somewhat of an adult. I'll still never fathom that.
I really do hate you. I hate everything you are and everything you've become. But I'll never truly hate you, and sometimes I still miss you, and I made those tik toks not as a drama starter (which, I don't know why EVERYTHING is drama to you) but as a way to vent about how I felt. I mean, you can vent about your ex for 5 months straight but I can't vent about losing a best friend? Maybe it's not the same, you lost a lover and I lost a best friend but it still hurts as much. The memories, the times, a person I loved. That hurts just as much. Maybe, yeah, you were in love and I just loved a person a lot but both still hurt, if not as much, maybe more. Everyone's different. Every friendship is different.
You talk about accountability but you've never said sorry to anything you've said or done to people. Not one person has ever heard a sorry from you for the things you've done. Maybe the day you tell me sorry is the day I'll apologize to you for everything I've done, and gain a little sympathy for my actions, for all of my actions. And no, I was never mad you couldn't gain feelings. I never cared about that. That was the least of my problems. The whole point of our situationship was to focus on our feelings and I only kept calling you out because you kept screwing around talking to people when you could've just told me the truth and ended it there so you could do what you do and I could do what I do. That's all I wanted. Was honesty. Because if you weren't going to focus on our situationship to find yourself, there was no point. Actually, I was never even mad about our situationship I'm just saying that was the whole point of it, and accusing me of manipulating you into sex with alcohol IS accusing me of sexual assault. Which, you never told me you were struggling with at the time. The fact you actually even said that I never would've known that I manipulated you, which is funny how you somehow magically took it back. If you had told me about your alcohol troubles, that you were unsure about doing that with me, if you had told me no to everything, it would've never happened. I would've respected you. I was never in it for the sex and I never actually got with you because you were easy, I just said that to hurt you, which, I know is fucked up. It just somehow happened. We flirted, we took it to the next level saying we were going to be each other's distractions, then...yeah. Even if I did propose the ideas—the fact is you agreed, which is why it continued when it probably shouldn't have.
What I'll admit is that I did like you last year. That I won't deny. I get you didn't like me which I understand but I'll tell you why I liked you last year. Because you were sweet. You were so beautiful and so considerate and just had the world spinning around you. I didn't fall in love, but I did like you, a whole lot. I couldn't help but admire every moment I had with you, how you made a situation more sweeter than it was. That's why I liked you, and maybe the feelings resurfaced just a tad bit this year when we screwed around but somehow I saw just a small bit of that girl in the moments we had. Well, the "moments". You know what I mean.
I was so understanding of everything. I tried to be so patient. I knew what you were going through and was trying to give you time but it felt like you never gave a fuck about the fact I cared, and to be honest it didn't hurt when you said you only used me for comfort when nobody else would run off for you because I expected you to say fucked up shit. I expected you to try and say shit that would cut deep and kill me inside, but truth is it never hurt because I knew it'd eventually be said. You can't say I tried, though. What does hurt a bit though is the day I promised you I'd get you out of this sick town. The day you cried into my arms about how you hated it here, the day I promised you. I got bored one day and looked at my reminders and saw something that...well, hurt. June 23rd, 2023, "Take J with me". I never even knew I made that reminder a year back, but if I hadn't seen it now, that day I would've been reminded to do what I had promised you so long ago, and now I can't keep my promise to you. That I'm sorry for. For not keeping my promise. I wish I'd keep to it if we weren't at such odds.
People did care for you, J. A lot of people did. A lot of people hurt when you were hurt, a lot of people loved you when you were at your worst. Even me. I loved you a whole fucking lot. But now I have to say goodbye. If you do ever find yourself around me again, which, I know will never happen for both of our sake's but I say this because life is full of mysterious circumstances, all I can say is that things aren't going to be the same. But, goodbye, J. This letter will never end up in your hands knowing that you'll find a way to bash me on snap or at school for it, or use it as evidence against me in some sort of case, but if it does, goodbye.
With regards,
Lyla
•
Did you guys enjoy that? I sure as hell did. Obviously this was LONG before I learned to accept to let go of things, and I honestly contemplated not including this, but I already put this in my poem book and in all honesty I am sharing personal shit with you guys, so, fuck it.
