Dear Best Friend,
The first night you cried,
You texted me.
Telling me how fat you are
And how you're so ugly you can't look at yourself.
That very first night, I stayed up for you until 3 a.m. I waited for you to sleep peacefully.
The second time you cried, you ran towards me. I embraced you as you cried on my shoulder, telling you sweet sayings in your ear that you want to hear. You told me you loved me and how happy you were that I was your friend. That's all I could think of that night and the next morning I was restless.
The third time you cried, you told me how you're jealous of a girl because she's dating a boy you liked. You made fun of her face, her looks, and her smile. You talked crap about their relationship, what she does, and how she does it. You told me how ugly she was and I told you how pretty she was. You disagreed with my opinion. But it's an opinion. I respected yours, I just wanted you to respect mine.
This went on for a year.
You cried to me, almost every night, and I get about 3 hours of sleep. You sleep well, I slept uncomfortably.
Now, the first time that I cried to you.
I told you how my father hit me. How I want to die because I've been told too many times I'm a horrible daughter. You told me I'll be fine, I can suck it up. I did.
Then, you told me your problem.
The second time I cried to you, I told you the same thing again and more.
I told you how my father hit me, how this boy played me, and how I was teased at in school. You told me I'll be fine, I can suck it up. I did.
Then, you told me your depressing problem.
The third time I cried to you, I told you how I have been having suicidal thoughts, how I want to so badly kill myself. You told me don't, you told me that you love me, and that you would be sad that I was gone. You told me you needed me.
So, I lived.
The fourth time I cried to her, I sucked it up. It was a sad moment, but I didn't dare cry. I didn't tell her about it because she had her own problems.
She always had problems.
She had so much problems, it was enough for the two of us.
She told me her problems, I helped.
For the past year, she told me her problems.
I couldn't tell her mine because she had problems.
I couldn't be sad because she was sad.
I couldn't cry because she was crying.
I couldn't think about killing myself because she was thinking about killing herself.
I couldn't feel because she was.
I couldn't feel anything.
I wasn't sad, mad, happy, or even confused.
I was gone. I wasn't human. I didn't cry at funerals or deaths anymore. I wouldn't laugh at jokes, be mad at the world, or be confused on a problem.
I was a robot. I told you the same thing again and again, but a bit more than usual each time. I told you the things you needed and wanted to hear, I was your best friend.
I was the bestest friend. I was your person, the one you tell everything to.
But I had nobody.
I couldn't tell anybody my problems.
So, I smoked it away. I got high off my fucking ass, I told you the reason why I was smoking, and all you said was
"Just don't turn into a pothead on me"
