Dear ex-best friend,
There's something idealistic about imagining growing old with your friends, being friends forever. When you get to know someone so intimately as you get to know a best friend, you feel as though nothing can break your tangible bond. When someone understands you as well as your best friend does, your lives become intertwined. They become part of your experiences.
I remember our Year 7 days, how we clicked instantly over a shared sense of humour. We would laugh and prank people, get up to mischief. We would imagine our futures, you would start a record label and I, with my organisational skills, would manage it for you. Everyone knew us as the ultimate duo, crazy and fun, yet serious and honest. You told me you had never had a friend like me, someone who listened to you so deeply, fervently, honestly. Indeed, I thought I had never found someone like you either. I loved how we shared the same values- we valued respect, kindness, inclusion. When you're surrounded by immature 14 year olds, I think that meant a lot to me, to find a friend who understood the world as I did. Rare, even..
So we continued, as the best of friends from Year 7 to Year 10. We had no hardships, no hurdles. Our friendship was smooth sailing when friendships around us broke. An indestructible bond. I needed this security in my life. I think you did, too.
There was no single moment when we started to drift. In Year 11, we made new friends. There was no jealousy or bitterness that is often portrayed in movies when friendships fall through. In fact, we embraced this new change, expressing our irritation at the mundanity of high school life up to Year 10. We both grew in Year 11, but I don't think we changed exactly. At least, you were still the same in my eyes. We had no classes together, but we still hung out at lunch times. I was content with how life was.
Year 12- that's when it changed. You became distant, and I nodded in acceptance. It was genuinely fine, I was happy to be a friend and not a best friend. The connection we had would always be there, I was certain. Truly, I felt no indignation. I vested my time into other friendships, by then I had made two new best friends. You wanted to make memories with everyone, which to you meant dividing your time. Once again, I truly understood how you felt. This was our final year of high school, I would not stop you from living your high school experience to the fullest.
The year continued. We talked less. It became a 'hi' and 'bye' conversation, verging on awkward but not quite. I was told you did not envision us being close this year, which I accepted. I asked you about that comment and you denied it, saying we would always be close. Simply, we did not have to spend physical time together to be close. Interesting, I thought. Maybe that had truth to it.
The only time I felt annoyance was when you acted differently around certain people. It seems ridiculous for me to write this, but I think you were intent on presenting yourself in a particular way on social media. You never wanted to take photos with us. I felt as if you did not want to be seen with us. When we would speak, you would always seem bored or irritated. This was a contrast to your joking nature when you conversed with your other friends. You cannot blame me for reading this as an indication that our friendship was dissipating. What even were we?
I never confronted you- we both know I hate confrontation. Instead, we pretended this wedge did not exist. It was a facade, but neither of us would be blunt about it. We have not spoken, properly, in 3 months, maybe 4. You seem to act like nothing has changed, having told one of our mutual friends that you feel closer to me than the friends you spend your lunch times with. I just wonder, why can't you be honest with yourself? Or perhaps you have no genuine connections with anyone, not even these friends that you seem to be close to.
I have skipped the annoyance. I only feel bad for you, because if you think we are close then there must be no one you feel like you can talk to. I think, in your heart, you are very alone. I will be here, because despite everything, guilt is the one emotion that can consume and eat me up. I will be here, but I will not initiate conversations or make plans, because when I do, you stare blankly in boredom. If you need me, we can talk. But you will have to start.
I'm conflicted. I want to let go, but I can't because I feel bad.
