Excuse my rant, I will be all over the place.
Anyway, I write “To whom it may concern,” not because I don’t know who I’m specifically dedicating this post to; I know EXACTLY who this is for. Rather, I say this because I do not know what to call you anymore.
I don’t think I can call you a friend because we’ve butted heads one too many times and over the couple of years, we’ve just gotten into so many messy misunderstandings that we’ve dug ourselves into a ditch. I don’t even know if I can call you an acquaintance. We don’t really see eye to eye, but I can’t exactly say I hate you either.
Now I won’t lie and say that everything is perfect between us and that I’m totally free of bitter feelings.
Lord knows that we don’t even talk and that every once in a while, I stop and think about our memories together, especially the way you hurt me. And I think how we tried to just fix our friendship, but for some reason it broke us down and it seems there’s some hidden tension between us. Pretty sure at one point or another, you thought I was being “fake,” because I would always be sarcastic or mean toward you (even though that’s just my nature and I don’t even know what’s running through your mind) and I feel as if the resentment we built over the years totally clouded our visions with assumptions and hate.
But let me tell you something.
I definitely don’t mean to be fake. I don’t know if you remember, or if you even read the letter I wrote to you last year, but I wanted to end the year on good terms. And I feel as if I have mentioned this many times before in this blog, or possibly on Twitter or Tumblr , but it’s true. When I wrote that, I wanted to start on a clean slate. I didn’t want any hatred, and I wanted to be able to be comfortable with you around our other friends and you know I wouldn’t want to wish any bad upon you, despite my random rants saying, “Can he walk off the face of the earth?” or “Ew, I hate him so much…” You can’t blame me for feeling this way because I know you’ve felt this at some point. We probably just got frustrated trying to understand each other.
To be honest, I still don’t understand you, and I’m not too sure that I ever will or that I want to. I saw you a few days ago and indirectly greeted you with an eye roll of disdain upon seeing you sitting near the top of the bleachers, but I paid no mention to you. I didn’t come to see you anyway. We kept our distance until you decided to come up to our group of friends to make conversation and I decided, “I might as well be civil” and I greeted you with an awkward handshake and hug. I was overly hyper that day, probably due to the wonderful music that was still ringing through my ears, but what’s the point of having you rain on my parade? It probably took everything inside of you to keep that calm, “nice guy” demeanor you wore when we first met. Something inside of me tells me you were looking down upon me, for a reason I will probably never know because I’m sure there are a lot of things you are hiding from me. But I found myself being comfortable again, because really, you’re not worth the worry and I think I’ve earned the right to act as crazy as I want in a place I called my second home. Plus, I quite like it better when I’m happy and things seem okay.
That being said, I still DO want to be friends. I’ve said this so much I don’t think I can count the times. But seriously, what’s the point of secretly hating each other all the time? So I hope one day, when we’re mature and settled down and successful, we can look back and laugh and say we’ve made it through and we’ve both learned our lessons and achieved the happiness we deserve, whether we’re a big part of each other’s lives or not. I don’t expect we will be, but I hope we can think of each other and smile a bit. The memories that bring back pain today will one day just be pictures in our storybooks, and we’ll just shrug and say,
“It never worked out, and that’s okay.”
I thought it was perfect.
When we were trying to imagine our lives together, we wrote the words “I love you” on three random puzzle pieces, not paying attention to where we were writing because we were so blind.
Or maybe it was just me who was not paying attention.
But we quarreled and spatted and each time we tried fixing us, we saw that it would only fall apart again. And you finally had enough of it all and decided to walk away.
So one night when the tears would not stop flowing, I decided to open my box filled with memories of you and take out those three puzzle pieces.
That’s when I realized the puzzle pieces didn’t fit.