Hey There Stranger

It’s been a very long time, which I’m sure you’re aware of. I’d like to say that it was your decision alone to keep this distance, but I think we both know it was for the best. I’d like to say that I’m glad you are well, but as we both know I have absolutely no idea how you are.

The one thing that can definitely be said is that when we cut ties, we leave no strand behind, but slice right through until we no longer remember how to find each other. It’s amazing to think that once we were inseparable, the best of friends.

You knew me inside and out, and I, you. We were there for each other in the best of times and through the most difficult of times. We definitely managed to put each other through hell on occasion, but when support was needed the most, support was given. Until, of course, that final day.

I sometimes find myself wondering why we couldn’t stay in touch. Would it be so bad if we got together for coffee from time to time? Or if we gave each other a ring to see how the other was doing?

Using the phone to make calls has become archaic, but surely we could send a text to wish each other a happy birthday? Or a happy New Year? I mean, we’ve been through so much. You are a part of my life and there is nothing I can do to ever change that.

You can’t be forgotten because forgetting you would be like forgetting myself — impossible. But then again, maybe you are right. Maybe we are better off as far apart as possible.

We know we aren’t right for each other. We know it would never work, and we know the friendship we have — we had — created a bond that would make slipping back into romance too easy.

It would make repeating the same mistakes too likely, repeating the same heartbreak certain. That’s what it really comes down to: It’s not my heart that I’m worried about, but yours. Breaking my own heart would be my responsibility to bear, but I can’t once again be responsible for breaking yours.

So all that I can do is wish you the best. Wish you a great, bright, loving future. Wish you to find the lover of your dreams and to create a lifetime of your fantasies.

I wish for you to find a friend as great as me, but a much better partner. One who won’t drag you through the mud. One who you won’t feel the need to bury with guilt.

I wish you all the best and although you will never read this, although we will never speak to each other again, and although you are out of my life forever, I wish you nothing short of happiness.

Never again to be yours, 

Your Lost Best Friend

Officially Ending Something Unofficial

Him and me.  We never were a thing, not really. 7 months. Secretly, I’d refer to him as my boyfriend, well only to strangers at least, but he wasn’t. And now we’re over. We never had a title and yet now we’re not even untitled – no ex-so and so – nothing.

It’s funny when you know something needs to end and should end, but you do everything you can to keep it going, even if it means lying to yourself. Just for a little longer you say. I’m young what does it matter you tell yourself. Maybe it doesn’t.

It ended because he wouldn’t give me more and I got sick of expecting less. The worst way to end an undefined thing has got to be because the other person doesn’t care enough to define it. He “feels like an asshole” because he can’t like you as much as you like him, as much as you need him to like you. You feel he is an asshole, but mostly for saying that – actually you’re almost certain of it.

And then you’re left grieving a relationship that never was. It’s similar to most other breakups, I would assume. You delete his contact, but make sure to write it down in a secret notebook in case you change your mind about taking the high road and decide to send him an angry, desperate text. Something that would make him feel really bad for everything – but not bad enough to change his mind. You even think about the way he will tell others about it. He’ll say he felt bad that he couldn’t give you more and you immediately hate how cocky it sounds and wish you could have prevented any of those feelings at all.

You get rid of anything that reminds you of him and try an avoid looking at your phone for texts that will not be coming. You were so used to knowing everything he did throughout the day, how he felt about his parents, his financial troubles, but not anymore.

You even tell yourself you need to wash your sheets, but give yourself a day or two to bask in his scent before erasing it forever – well that and you hate doing laundry.

And then you go out. You go out with your friends, get drunk, and look for someone else. Someone safe. Someone temporary. Not seven months temporary – just temporary.

And maybe in a month he and that period of my life will be as trivial as the time he’ll spend grieving me. That’s what you told me right? In a month I won’t be upset? It annoys me you think that’s how long I’d grieve our non-existent relationship. It annoys me even more that you’re probably right.