letter to a close friend
Hey.
I know we’re besties and all. We’re so close that we could hold full conversations in our inside jokes and not a soul would know what we were talking about except you and I, and I love that. You’re always there nodding eagerly when I get my lame-ass ideas, like driving to Hurst to buy Chic-fil-a despite the fact that there’s one fifteen minutes down Cooper, or when I think we should play hide and seek when the hallways at TCC are crowded with wannabe gangstas. When ridiculous shit happens and you have to wait in line for three and a half hours, I’m there to make sure you don’t go stir-crazy and all axe-murderer-rage on everyone around you. It’s because I care.
I realize you have a boyfriend, and I realize you two do shit together, too. Shit that goes on between the two of you and clearly does not involve me. I’d like it very much if things stayed that way.
I’m glad that you trusted me enough that night in August when we went swimming at 3 AM to tell me what you did. I assume you took my blazè-ness as ‘I don’t want to seem like a total, judgmental bitch like another person we both know so I won’t act surprised’, but in all actuality, I really wasn’t. We’re all teenagers, me, you and him, and I’m not entirely stupid. I knew it was going to happen one day. I trust you enough to know just what the hell you were getting into. And I genuinely didn’t care. But you have to realize: you are the one with the significant other. Not me. The escapades that go down between you and him are supposed to stay between you and him. I don’t want to hear it. I know you don’t mean it, and I know that if I told you the truth you would stop, but… I feel like there would be a rift between us. And seeing how incredibly stupid I am, I would unintentionally do things to make that rift bigger, and I would be devastated if something as silly as a boyfriend destroyed our friendship.
But still, every time you mention that, I get depressed a little. I’ll respond with something witty and funny that’ll take me ages to come with so that I won’t sound sad and pathetic, but it tears me up inside.
I know. I’m being melodramatic and blowing things out of proportion. I tend to do that a lot; sorry. That’s why I’m writing you this letter that you’ll never see. Otherwise it’ll just keep building up and building up and I’ll explode in front of you and ruin everything. I know. Melodrama again. I think I made my point across, though. I want to end this on a positive note, so I was going to say; ‘let’s stay friends forever,’ but I hate that word. Forever. So…
Let’s stay friends as long as we can, ‘kay?
Me.