I Still Think About You

I hate getting close to people. I mean, at the moment it seems right. The feeling you get when you're around a person who brings out the best in you, and who is equally attached to you as you are to them has got to be one of the best feelings in the world. And when it ends, especially without a clear explanation and knowing a replacement is there, it hurts like you wouldn't believe — it still hurts. I guess it makes sense then that my hands are shaking and the tears are trying to escape my eyes as we speak.

I remember when I first noticed that we were drifting apart, that I was no longer someone you considered a best friend. I felt like my world was coming down. I'd lay in bed sometimes and cry and wake up the next day as if I didn't. I remember grabbing my phone and typing a message to send to you only to erase it because I felt selfish. Which I know doesn't make sense in most cases, but I guess I've gotten so used to not putting myself first that it feels selfish to do so. The guilt eats away at me in ways that still surprise me.

And because I'm me, I found ways to blame the fallen friendship on myself rather than both, or rather than change. Friendships come apart all the time, not because they weren't meant to be, but because we are always growing, and therefore become different people.

That still doesn't stop it from hurting. The only thing that hurt more than seeing you with a new best friend (who ironically had the same name as me), was knowing you talked bad about our group — sorry, the group you used to sit with. When confronting you, you denied it. It hurt because these people who you talked bad about loved you, cherished you, and trusted you. It also hurt because I had told you so many dark secrets I barely told anyone. You were special to me. I was holding the broken pieces of my heart while you laughed with a new found friendship. That's the thing though...it wasn't new. Going into middle school really put stumps in our relationship from day one I'd say.

The most frequent thing you told me was that I was the reason you came out of your bubble, and that because of me you were able to make friends and be more social. I found it funny, not only because you intimidated me at first (you seemed pretty cool when I first met you), but because I couldn't see how a quiet girl who had a book in her hand could make that happen. You always seemed like the confident one, so you can imagine how much of a surprise it was to hear those words. At some point, as you kept coming out of your shell, my walls were being brought back up, my bubble was closing around me, and my feelings were kept behind a smile. It's funny how certain things help people and those same things make people fall.

I wanted to make this perfect, but realized our friendship and the way it ended wasn't perfect at all, and I know one day I'll be okay, and years down the road this won't hurt as much, but for now it does. For now it still pains my heart scrolling down my feed to see you with her. I know it'll be okay, I know. I'm content with the fact that, despite what happened between us, you're surrounded by people who care. In a way that matters more to me than the ache in my chest.

— words to you I'll never send.