An open letter to an old friend.

My dear friend,

after a falling out that we had over 8 months ago, you decided that you wanted me back in your life. I truly was caught up in a whirlwind of confusion, I was stunned- literally. I couldn’t bring myself to take a step closer to you when you showed up in my driveway that day. I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know if it would be safe, to be honest. I didn’t want to feel uncomfortable because you wanted to hug, but I didn’t want to feel the rejection if you didn’t. At this moment, two weeks later, I don’t remember what you chose, so I guess it doesn’t matter anyway.

I do remember that I started it.

After living in a stressful situation nanny-ing a toddler and a newborn for two months, two hours away from my friends and basically all other adults, I was relieved to be home; sitting on the beach in the sun, enjoying the peace and relaxation I hadn’t felt in months. I wasn’t expecting to see you and your new awful man creature boyfriend, publicly intoxicated on the beach at 9 in the morning with the evidence scattered obviously all around you. Seeing you in the cocaine fueled frenzy that you were in, I felt it was the best course of action to be real with you. It was in my best interest to tell you that you could do whatever you wanted, and I wouldn’t judge you or love you any less, but I didn’t want you to do it around me because you couldn’t contain yourself and you made me very uncomfortable.

Let me reiterate: I still feel like I did the right thing. No, I do not regret my choice. Yes, I still care for you.

I understood you being hurt or upset. Though the aftermath of this incident turned extremely nasty, warping my image of you entirely. I didn’t understand the hostility. I then saw a side of you that I had never seen. I saw a side of you that had been humming beneath the surface for years, but had never actually poked it’s head out. I was both relieved and afraid. So I let it be, the nasty comments, the hurtful insults, the accusations, the hundreds of dollars that you owed me, I let them all roll off my back. I took the big ol’ L and said that I would be better off this way.

And I was. But not because of you leaving.

I’ve turned 24 since then. I’ve dated and dumped since then. I’ve gotten a new job that I love since then. I’ve started a decently growing blog since then. I’ve quit smoking cigarettes since then. I’ve completed some college courses since then. I’ve changed the way I approach my daily problems. I’ve changed, period.

Thank you for letting me love you and lose you, my dear friend.

Because without loss, and knowing how you react to that loss, how do you know who you really are?

I truly hope that you are well.

Love,
me.

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