So, this is a blog post I really didn’t want to ever write. I knew if you were to ever read this (i’m still hoping you never do) you’d have a smug satisfaction that I still even think of you.  I’m sure you’re happily married by now and have a few kids. Believe it or not, i’d be happy for your happiness in life.

The truth is, I didn’t think about you for a really long time. It wasn’t until it was brought to my attention by an estranged sibling of mine that you’d contacted her and bashed me… yet again. This sibling I no longer speak to and haven’t had in my life for years took great satisfaction in telling me you’d been harsh about me to her. It was during a heated debate, well flat out argument that she threw it in my face. At the time it amused me as I thought she was talking about a family member with the same name as you. She had to remind me which person had been slating me.  I mean, you never liked my siblings, and they never liked you. Yet I guess your common dislike of me gave you some sort of chit chat material.

I am not like you though. I have no shame in admitting I now think of you occasionally, because when I loved you, it was legit. You were my sister from another Mr. You, I thought, were my soul mate. When shit hit the fan, and I finally walked away I was heartbroken. Literally my heart was shattered and it took me a really long time to get over it. Even now I have trust issues with people close to me. That’s because i’d always been sincere with you. For me, it was a real genuine friendship. You were family.  You didn’t even contact me or reach out to ask why I cut off contact. You just didn’t care. I meant so little to you. This just confirmed I made the right choice to walk away.

 

 

I loved your parents too dude. I thought of them as second parents and respected them. You never had the same respect for mine though. I would sit there at your house and your whole family would talk shit about mine. I knew the rules though, I wasn’t to mock you back. I didn’t just feel sad about walking away from you, but aspects of your folks. Your mum reading tarot cards and inviting me back to yours for lunch when I had work experience at her place of work and I had no-one to have lunch with.  It saddens me that now your mum is hostile towards me. Just not so subtle looks when I see her in our hometown. I dare not give her a smile. I’d like to say ‘Hi’ and even ask how you are, but I know that there’s hostility on her end. It sucks. But it is what it is.

It makes me proud of my parents though that they’d still say ‘hello’ to you, and smile. Even though they were a big reason why I walked away from you. They knew how negatively our friendship affected me. It doesn’t mean my parents are fake, they just don’t hold grudges. My parents aren’t the sort of people to stare and give those squinted side eye glares. Or smugly side smile and look at someone as if they’re something they stepped in.

Your brother called me a ‘trendy’ because my gloves I wore snowboarding were ROXY. This is the same dude who took an hour changing his tee shirt before a gig. Really dude? To be fair he was always a bit of a penis to me. I’m sure he was used to everyone kissing his arse. I never bought into the hype and i’d cringe every time you name dropped your brother’s band. Especially at uni when the guy I gave a lift back to his student accommodation didn’t give a shit who they were. You know, the guy you thought was cool because he had safety pins in his ears. It was refreshing that for once someone didn’t kiss your ass because you name dropped your bros. I remember once you got mad at me when you honestly asked me at ‘our place’ (you remember, the bridge near on the way to the woods). You asked me ‘be honest, do you fancy my brother’. I said ‘no’. You got mad at me. Was that fair?  I honestly didn’t and never did. I found him intimidating. Condescending. Pretentious. Self righteous and a bit of a douche bag. But as I loved you as my best friend, I’d respect her was your brother. Your other brother was much nicer. Talented, but not obnoxious about it. He didn’t lack humility. He wasn’t intimidating even though he was so talented. Laid back.  A few of your brother’s friends were hot (to a 17 year old me), but for some reason I angered you because I answered ‘no’ when you asked that stupid question. I never asked you that about my bro. To be honest, I couldn’t give a shit if you fancied mine. I also knew there was no way you did. I was protective of him (even though at this point in my life I haven’t spoken to him for the best part of a decade, and no longer consider him family). But I was a loyal sister and I know you’d be beyond harsh about him. You were about all my family. Sure I’d vent to you when I was hurt by them. I remember missing uni because I burst out crying in my car over some petty shit they were doing. Regardless, you’d use any opportunity to talk shit about them. In a smug way. This is why, although predictable for you, it’s so cringe inducing that you and my sibling slagged me off on the lovely website that is Facebook, an age after I walked away from you. And her.

Your bro though. I never understood why he was so bitter. I didn’t buy the ‘tortured artist’ BS. I didn’t buy the hype in general. You stood and watched him be so mean to me, but if my siblings were ever dicks to you (which admittedly they were) I’d be so protective. I was always so protective over you. Remember at school when those older kids bullied you and stole your crutches. I retrieved them and had your back, and turned their focus onto me by verbally annihilating them. They got so aggressive that it got really bad and I needed you as a witness in the principal’s office. You refused to do that for me and went home ‘sick’. After I got back your crutches, and told them they were twats and they started harassing me to such an extent that the head teacher got involved and you wouldn’t even sit with me to back me up. Oh man did that hurt. That hurt to my core. Fortunately I had some other friends who were witnesses and the vice head was so lovely and understanding. I still remember to this day that the exact moment I learnt to spell the word ‘whore’. I had to write an account of what those older kids called me, and I wrote ‘HOAR’ and the teacher corrected me. My frigid little ass called a ‘whore’. Wow. They threatened to gouge my eyes with pencils. I needed you to just stand by me and be a witness, but you selfishly went home because you didn’t want to deal with it. If only i’d have taken the same stance when they cruelly stole your crutches. But the thing is, friendship for me, even as a teenager was looking out for my friends. I’d do the same a again to be honest because I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing I witnessed injustice and didn’t try to help someone out and look out for them.

 

Do you remember when you called me to tell me that a loved one had tragically died. Far before their time. Do you remember how quickly I got to your house. My mother (who you don’t respect) had answered and knew you were upset, she stood by the stairs with her keys in her hand knowing you needed me. Did you know my brother and sister and their kids were around for a BBQ. We never got on, we haven’t spoken in years now as i’m estranged from them, but this was one brief period in time we were sort of close. I’d been looking forward to this occasion, but the second I heard you on the phone, I didn’t give a crap about my family get together. I just wanted to hug you. It broke my heart to feel you shaking whilst I was hugging you. To see your dad have tears in his eyes, and to know what your mother was going through. My heart hurt so much. I truly loved you all.

My boyfriend and I are oddly connected by that day. He was a witness, and was once telling me about the time he had to speak to the paramedics and call 999. How he saw a horrific accident and how he’ll never forget that day.  This was before I knew him, and we both will never forget the same day. But for me, it’s I’ll never forget my best friend from childhood trembling in my arms and how hopeless I felt that I didn’t know the words to say or how to take away any of your pain.

What hurts me about this, you weren’t there for me when I lost a loved one. You told me how one of our teachers was being disgustingly nasty about my dying family member. Making jokes about me still not being in class. You told me this. Knowing i’d lived in that hospital room with my grandad for 5 days straight. Not only did you tell me that the teacher was being a cock, you continued to be super nice to him and flirty right in front of me when I got back. Fuck dude, that literally ripped me apart. Those five days were 5 of the hardest days of my life. Holding my grandad’s hand and knowing my mother was in the family room unable to face seeing her dad die. How my grandad was hallucinating and we had to wear protective clothing for 5 days, and dispose of it every time we left the room. Hearing my grandad call out for my nan. Feeling him squeeze my hand when I asked him if he could hear me. Soaking a sponge in water to put on his lips as he was no longer able to drink.  Seeing a once fitness enthusiast and boxer lay frail on a hospital bed.  How I was suffering so badly with my OCD at the time (undiagnosed) and was convinced I was schizophrenic like my uncle was before he took his own life. Hearing my granddad’s death rattle. Hearing my atheist grandad talk about God and asking us to say prayers. Seeing my aunties and uncles lose their father was one of the most heart wrenching things i’d ever seen.  Dude, it was torture. That is what I was doing the 5 days I was off. The second week I was off I was at the doctors myself because I was so ill and unable to cope. So whilst that prick of a ‘teacher’ was mocking me and my family, that’s what I was going through. I’ll never forgive you for that. That was the moment that I decided you were no friend of mine and that when we graduated I was walking away.  I was too exhausted for conflict, and after years of trying to discuss things with you and you getting hostile I just couldn’t face another attempt at talking to a brick wall. Oh man, remember asking my boyfriend in front of me how much money he’d lost being off work for a the final two days and going to the hospital to see me (because my stepdad asked him to, I never asked him to be there)…. Money? I’d lost my grandad. Not cool. Why would you ask that? That’s so unkind, inconsiderate and weird.

 

This boyfriend of mine. Oh wow. The one you were convinced was really with me because he couldn’t have you. You fail to  remember that this mutual guy friend was flirting with me for a while when we first started hanging out. You and our other girlfriend mocked him and I.  ‘Stacey and ____ sitting in a tree’. 17 year olds singing that, really guys? OK then.  But then when he focused on you, there was no mocking was there?  Do you remember after him and I dated you said to me in the car ‘Well he did ask me out first’. I didn’t correct you in that moment. I didn’t tell you how he actually asked me out and I said no, and to spare him any embarrassment I never told you. I didn’t remind you how I pushed and pushed him to ask you out instead.  So you smugly had the audacity to imply he was only with me because he couldn’t have you, oh man how wrong you were. How conceited you were.

Do you remember we fancied the guys in the year above us at college. Do you remember how you told me that one admitted he kinda liked me. I tried to play it cool and make out I didn’t care (we both know I did), you said ‘don’t worry, he doesn’t fancy you now. My brother, my brother’s girlfriend and I mocked him for it’.  I dread to think what you said to that guy to put him off of me.  Is that something a friend does? I know you had a massive crush on him yourself, much more than I ever did, but how unkind? Is that what your definition of  a friend is?  ‘we mocked him and now he doesn’t like you’. Fuck. That’s cold.

Remember when I later went on to fall for a guy you called ‘rat boy’. How I found out he had a girlfriend after already falling for him. You slated him, even wrote a song about him being a ‘rat boy’.  I was heart broken when he moved to NYC. My own fault was I didn’t realise it was just a ‘hook up’ and I believed him when he said he wanted me to visit and he’d take me out and he wanted to date me.  It’s strange to me that when you and I fell out, you got back in contact with him. (he told me, and not to be a bitch, but he talked shit about you to me, mocking your singing saying he’d never let that shit ‘penetrate his ears’).  I get it, he works for someone famous now. That’s like so totally amazing and shit. Give me a break.  I liked him before he was a ‘big deal’. Now I realise he was a selfish twat and I was a lame girl being all swoony and shit. What can I say, I was a sucker for talent. He went on to be a massive sleeze, to be fair he was one in the beginning. The first time I met him, he was dating that bitchy chick I once thought of as one of our closest friends.  Yeah, awkward meeting her new boyfriend, when she told me his band name and I realised he’d already asked me out on ‘face party’. Lol, face party.  When we got together, we joked about that. I asked him what he was thinking when he saw me turn up, (but I hadn’t seen a photo of him, just knew his band name).  He said ‘I was shitting myself when she was asking me to tell you about my band’. We laughed at how when I heard the band name my mouth dropped and I looked at him and he looked down at the ground. I never told her though. I never said ‘yo, your boyfriend’s been hitting me up online and asked me out’. Fuck no. I’d never say that. I’m not the sort of person who says ‘well he asked me out first’. Even though in contrast to you saying it, I was actually right.  Even your first boyfriend, the creepy af guy admitted he asked me out first and I’d said no. After you broke up he said ‘it could have been you’. I shuddered. Gross. Did I throw this in your face? no!  Funny thing is both those dudes have the same name (Spelt differently). Cringe.

It also was interesting, but predictable af, you made friends with the girl who you couldn’t stand after I walked away from you. The one who’s ex I went on to fall for. The face party dude. Did you need to seek validation in numbers? Befriend everyone who can’t stand me even if you think they’re a loser?  Maybe miraculously you changed your opinion of her, but after years of shit talk, I doubt it. I remember how when you served her at your place of work you took great pleasure in that you were the one to serve her and that she had ‘gotten ugly’.

I know you thought the same about me, when you later had to serve me in the same place.  The thing is, when you ripped my ticket and acted all smiley as if I was a stranger, I recalled how you told me you liked doing that to get back at people. I saw straight through that shit. I’m too real to play mind games.  Oh the satisfaction you must have had to see me looking rough.

 

Fuck that though, I have been through hell in my personal life and childhood and I gained weight, and let myself go. As I type this I have worn make up maybe  handful of times since you and I used to be close. It stopped being important to me if i’m honest.

I’m glad we very rarely cross paths, because you’d be so smug seeing how ‘ugly’ i’ve gotten. But hey, silver lining, at least I made you smile. Even if it is for messed up reasons.

 

I hope you’re not so obsessed with looks nowadays. Regarding yourself and others. I hope your priorities in life have changed. I have had years of counselling and therapy since we parted ways and I felt I could breathe again. No longer hear someone go on about looks 24/7.  No longer having a friend who refused to delete an ugly photo of me even when I pleaded with you to erase it. I still get confused by that, as why would you want an unattractive photo of your friend, a photo that makes them self conscious and unhappy. You told me how my crush saw it. Why?  Is that a kind thing to do? I don’t understand why you held onto it. Roles reversed it would have been deleted the second you let me know you didn’t like it. You clung onto that though. That hurt dude. Oh but the photo you said you had of me and my figure looking ‘gorgeous’ as you said in Newquay, you said you didn’t have it anymore or lost it. Not going to lie, it would have been nice to see that, but it’s not important.  It’s just the intent that was unsettling.

 

For years I tried to be real with you and you’d get mad. When I pointed out the many times you were overly nice to someone’s face and overly harsh behind their back, I pointed out it was two faced. Holy Shit did I feel your wrath.  I called you out on your shit.  My bad. Remember when you told me your brother had customised those jeans you wore at college, and when some chick asked you if you did it yourself you said ‘yeah’, and after she walked away I said ‘you said your brother did’. Holy shit did I feel your wrath. I called you out on your shit. Uh oh.

Sorry, that’s what I thought friends did. Better yet, family. That’s what I thought you were to me. The people I roll with, nowadays, and I keep it real. We say what’s up to each other’s faces. We talk shit out. Hug it out.

 

I will admit, I was clingy. Now I know it was social anxiety disorder. But it was always as if you took advantage of it. As if you got pleasure from me having anxiety. Never trying to make me feel better, but always trying to make me feel even worse than I already did.

More than once you’d say ‘were you embarrassed?’. I’d say ‘no’. You’d say ‘I would have been’.   Awesome. Really great friend.

I know I got drunk and called you from Spain, and I never want to know what I said in those voicemails. You never told me and never offered to let me listen. I do know that a lot of people, that are not me, have had chance to listen to them though. Firstly, alcohol. That night was the most drunk i’ve ever been. Projectile vomiting, and I felt drunk for days after. I’m amazed I managed to call you. I can promise you this though. The words I spoke were words I repeated from others. It was me being a drunken asshole and moron after years of having my heart repeatedly stabbed. It was me being unwell. It’s not justifiable but roles reversed i’d have called you out on it. I’d have taken you aside and talked it out. Not pretend it didn’t happen, and act nice, until you were in my home and then turn the switch and tell you you’d been awful. You waited until I was in your kitchen, vulnerable after an argument at home, crying my eyes out to tell me that ‘actually you did leave a horrible message’. When I asked you before if I had, you said no. You told my boyfriend that I hadn’t (the boyfriend that was only with me because he couldn’t have you, yeah, that guy). You waited until I was in your house crying over an argument with my mum to throw the voicemail in my face. I don’t understand why you lulled me into a false sense of security. You had months to call me out on it. Repeatedly I asked you if i’d left drunken messages. I told you I was close to being hospitalised. But no, you played mind games, waited until I was already feeling low, and in your home, to make me feel even worse.

I don’t think you’ll ever realise how much pain you caused me. Or self reflect and own your shit. I own mine. I was immature in our teen years, ignorant, uneducated on some things. I was around people I shouldn’t have been and didn’t have the stability in my family or role models that you did.  You knew this as you’d always say how you were glad you had your family and not mine. As if that was helpful to say.  By all means be grateful, but dude… tact much?

Even your folks, I remember when your parents dropped me off and saw my parents new land rover. They smirked and commented that we’d got a ‘4×4’ now too. As if we copied you. Come the fuck on, the truth is that my parents sports car was too low for my grandad to get in and out of. I was so stoked they got rid of their convertibles as your family used to comment on those cars too in front of me. Mock them, it got old real quick. Who gives a shit what car someone drives. Yeah, I’d ask them to drop me off 5 minutes away from where I was going because I know you’d rip me.

My family never commented on anything your family was doing. Or what they were driving. All they ever did was ask how they were.  They were never patronising and they were never competitive. Or petty.

My parents are far from saints, and my word have I let them know it. We’ve been through hell and back. They’ve owned their mistakes in life. Their ignorance and the dickhead things they said back in the 90s and early 2000s. They’re such different people today. We’re so close, for the first time ever.

 

You’d probably be glad that i’m estranged from the rest of my family if you knew.  It was my choice though to cut those ties after years of heartache. I finally had to walk free from that BS. However, to you, i’m sure, it would be amusing and further validation that you’re ‘above me’. After all, your family love you and look out for you. Just as it would please you to see how ‘fat’ i’ve gotten. How ‘haggard’ I look.

 

You wouldn’t sympathise that I was suffering so badly from mental illness, that my mother had a severe stroke and was lucky to survive. That I lost my job because I was so unwell. You’d just see that i’m not ‘winning’ at life and you have something else over me. You’d probably feel so smug and exclaim just how happy you are. You always did do that. The thing is, Love is being happy for someone’s happiness. And I always was. Never jealous. I just hoped it was sincere and authentic happiness. Times you were less than happy weighed heavy on my heart. I always tried to make you feel better. I was the friend that went inside the shop to get mints when we were in winchester and although broke as a joke, bought you some socks because your shoes were rubbing and that’s why you were sat in the car. For brownie points? Fuck no. I’m not about that shit. They’re for Brownies, and let’s be honest, I hated Brownies (social anxiety eh?).  I was the friend that for the following years drove the long way to the cinema or uni to avoid driving down that road. Did any of our other friends give a shit, or thought about that, no.  I was the friend who when we were stranded by some bat shit insane dodgy taxi driver who looked like Dr Coldheart from Carebears, I told you it was ok and prioritised your feelings over mine because you cried. I was thinking ‘oh shit, we have no money or vehicle’, but I just tried to make you laugh in the shit situation.  When one of my favourite bands at the time, we saw play at Fistral Beach invited us to the afterparty at the Roxy boarding house (Oh Roxy, i’m such a ‘trendy’, whatevs I went on to work for Roxy and love the brand).  Instead we missed that because you wanted to flirt with that rich snob man boy who was allegedly a ‘Baron’. The one who wouldn’t let us into the big ass house he was renting as we weren’t aristocratic like him.  Left us waiting in a graveyard by the golf course. To be fair, he did go home to get me a hoody as I was freezing, but still didn’t like him. Partly because he tried to correct me on the Jimmy Eat World vs Something Corporate sitch.  Which, obviously I was right.  Man, I so badly wanted to be at that after party hanging out with the guys from the band I was mad into. In the warmth, having a good time. Not sat on a freezing cold golf course watching you and him trying to flirt, when you had a boyfriend at home might I add. Roles reversed you’d have made me feel like a tramp. In fact, you kind of did when I kissed that guy on the beach. I was 19/20. He was hot.  Oh boy did you get mad. Made out it’s because you were worried about me. Highly doubtful. If that was the case you could have walked a few feet up the beach and found me.

 

It’s kind of sad to think you’d find satisfaction in seeing me now, the way you did with others. You know, if you do think that way, then that sucks for you dude. To take pleasure in other’s misfortunes. Perhaps you don’t think like that anymore, but I knew you for 17 years, and we were inseparable for 15 of them, and you always used to talk about finding satisfaction in such cases. I heard you tried to become friendly again with everyone we fell out with. As if it somehow validates your dislike of me. Remember though, i’m the one who walked away and refused to play your ‘frenemy’ game anymore. I was too real for that shit. Too sincere. You’d probably still be pretending to be my friend today if I hadn’t walked away. I’m sure you probably never think of me. But you did when you slated me to my sibling. By that point I never thought of you, I was trying to embrace life without constant put downs. But since then, I have thought of you on occasion.  My life’s pretty blessed and I have so much gratitude every day. I am surrounded by so much love, but the past has left scars. My heart was truly broken…shattered. I’m not going to pretend that my life is so totally awesome that I have completely forgotten those years. It was almost two decades of my life. I’m a work in progress right now.  Life hasn’t gone as I planned, shit happened.  I had to change my plans because my priorities changed. My mum was so lucky to survive the stroke. I had to have therapy to cope with my childhood. I lost my business and job, which in turn stopped my career ambition and travel plans instantly.  My twenties were rough. But i’m healing now. (I’m sure you’d cringe at this, and mock this blog post).  It’s the truth though.

 

The people you got back in contact with, you didn’t fall out with them because of me. I didn’t make you rip them or slate them. That was you dude. I don’t need to seek validation from people, especially people I lost respect for.  Maybe you somehow gained respect for them after years of ridiculing them and sincerely reached out to get back in touch. I doubt it though. I know how important it is to you to have numbers. Quantity over quality right?  A tonne of people kissing your ass, over a handful of people who are real with you and genuinely love you.  Fortunately I value the latter more.

I don’t roll with people I think are lame. I don’t fuck with shit I don’t sincerely like. I don’t pretend to love and care about someone but in actuality I don’t give a shit about them. I don’t need constant validation from a stream of ass kissers. If someone pisses me off, that I care about, I tell them. We all good. I don’t carry on being fake and secretly harbour negative feelings. I have to clear the air. I have to be real. I have to rectify wrongs. I have to own my shit. If I need to apologise I can’t sleep until i’ve sincerely apologised. So, if you’d ever been honest with me about the voicemails I’d have apologised. I’d have been harder on myself than you could ever imagine. I’d have tried to make sense of them, and if I think what I said is correct i’d even be honest and say where I heard that, but I’d also say how I defended you profusely when that shit was said.

 

I hope you have real genuine sincere friendships today. I hope your best friend is someone you’d take a bullet for. Your ride or die. I hope they mean more to you than I ever did. I hope they mean to you what you meant to me for so many years.

I don’t think of you often, and like I said, I didn’t for years (after the initial heartbreak) until my estranged sibling threw in my face that you’d been slagging me off to her.  Even though I was often caught in an awkward place of you talking shit about her, and her being nasty about you. Which pained me as I hated hearing it from either end and exhausted myself defending the other. At least disliking me brings people together eh?

Remember when you put up the school photos on Facebook and I was commenting on photos of myself, self deprecating of course. I commented on a photo of a girl and said ‘it’s ok for her she was never a munter’.  Out of context it looked bad as the girl was in the photo with one of the twins. As if I was saying that only the one girl wasn’t a ‘munter’.  Remember how when one of the twins left a shitty comment (defending her sister to be fair) I rang you really upset saying ‘Oh no, I think they’ve read it out of context and I should explain’. You assured me that ‘no, they know what you meant’.  When later on they confirmed they thought I was being a bitch, and I explained in context it was me going through photos of me, seeing the one of this girl and she looked really pretty even as a teenager. There was no bad intent at all. I don’t operate like that. Truth is, I couldn’t tell in that photo what twin it was they used to go so mad if you got them wrong. I never thought my comment could be misinterpreted until her sister left a shitty message aimed at me. I even rang you for your honest opinion.  You knew and saw all of this going on, and not once did you defend me or try and get them to see what really went down. An innocent, although dip shit move on my part.  Oh how they despised me. I know they’ve gone on to become ‘famous’ now, and it’s awesome what they’re doing saving lives. I’m sure you’re really nice to them now as opposed to how you used to speak about them to me.  I donate anonymously because I respect that they don’t like me. Even though it was a total misunderstanding, and I had no mean intent whatsoever, I just try to live my life and support causes I care about and acknowledge when someone is doing something ace for others.  You watched all that go down back then, and it may sound pathetic and petty now, but that was hard for me. I’ve never forgotten it. It wasn’t my brightest moment, and now I know how things on social media can be misread out of context. I don’t understand why even though I phoned you and you agreed with me, and assured me everything was cool, you watched them rip me apart. Not once did you intervene even though it was on your page. I was your best friend. You reacted to every other notification that night but ignored that. It’s still strange to me that I now have friends who really do have my back. I wasn’t used to it at first, but it’s kind of nice to have those sort of people in my life now. You know, your vibe attracts your tribe and all.

There’s no petty situations going on, but just in general, I don’t even have Facebook anymore because it’s irritating as shit, but I know I can count on my friends. It doesn’t mean I don’t have some level of sadness for what went down with us though. It’s not raw anymore, but it’s not forgotten on my part. I’m not going to pretend that my life is amazing and so perfect that I forget we were once tight. No way.

 

So, you’re blocked on everything else so I doubt you’ll ever read this. I hope you’re the not same person who looks up people you don’t like, like you used to. That would be such a waste of your time and life’s too short.  I write these open letters for myself. To heal. I never wanted to write about you because I know the amount of satisfaction you’d get that i’m even putting time and effort into.

Dude, i’m authentic. I’m not going to pretend those 17 years didn’t happen. That I didn’t think of you as my soul sister. That we weren’t inseparable for years. That before my boyfriend you were the person i felt closest to in my entire life, even more than my family. I’m not going to be ashamed that it affected me so deeply. I was genuinely heartbroken and cried so much over it all. I wasn’t like you, I cared. Those years meant something to me. I felt like I’d lost a part of me. It’s something that even today, all these years later has changed who I am and how I go about my life. Through the heart ache I learnt a lot. About the sort of people I want in my life. The fact I want to be around people who respect me. Who mean the word ‘love’ when they say it. Who lift me up, who are sad for my sadness and happy for my happiness. Just as I am for them.  The only games I have time for are on the SNES, or a board game. The only bitches I roll with are my fluffy little girl dogs.  The only drama I fuck with is healthy debates with people I respect and care about and who mutually respect and care about me. I walk away from the BS that comes my way.  I hate conflict, despise it but I refuse to ever be two faced. I respect people too much, even those I dislike, to lead them into a false sense of security with me.  I can’t treat people like that.  I’ve grown so much since we last spoke. I’ve matured. I’ve had years of counselling and therapy and managed to address trauma from my childhood and understand why I was so clingy and damaged. Why I had no self esteem. Why I tolerated people treating me poorly.

So i’m never going to pretend I’ve not thought of you on occasion over the years. I’m proud to admit I have such a big heart, and was truly sad about the realisation you didn’t love me. I thought we’d be each other’s bridesmaids, still laughing together when we’re elderly.  I am truly sorry for any pain I caused you in life (I can honestly say it was unintentional if I did) but I also learnt to love myself too much to stand for any more BS.

 

So, maybe you’re married and have 2 kids and live in a beautiful place i’ve never been. I always thought i’d be an aunt to your kids. I’d be by your side until one of us takes our last breath here on this earth. It just wasn’t in the stars for us. It wasn’t ever real was it? The realisation of that all truly broke me. I doubt it bothered you. I’m not ashamed to be open about how much it crushed me because i’m proud that I was sincere and genuinely caring and loved you.  I used to wonder if we’d ever go for a drink and talk it out, but honestly, the thought of that makes me have so much anxiety. I am not certain you’ve changed, and if you haven’t then it wouldn’t achieve anything. It would just be another opportunity for you to remind me of your superiority to me and your quest to make me have self doubt. I don’t need closure anymore, because i’ve realised with you, there never could be. Whenever I used to try and talk things out back in the day you’d be harsh and so closed off to the idea that you could in anyway be at fault for anything.

So, my hearts always going to have a little scar for you. The person who I thought was my childhood best friend even though she liked to remind me how lame I Was calling for her and how her family would laugh when i’d be a loner and ride my bicycle around the block peering in your living room window in the hope you’d play out.

A scar, for my teenage soul mate who I used to listen to Something Corporate and Death cab until 4am laying on the grass in our gardens in the summer, drinking tea and talking about boys. That teenage soul mate, who was convinced every guy who like me liked her more and only dated me as a second resort.  The teen age ‘soul mate’ who was amused and happy that her brother ripping a guy for liking me made him no longer like me. The ‘teenage soul mate’ who used to photoshop my nose onto her face, but get mad if I laughed. The ‘sister from another mister’ who’d think it was ok for her big brother to try and humiliate me, because he was like ‘so totally cool and in an awesome band’.

The best friend in my early twenties who not only told me about the teacher taking the piss out of a dying man, my grandad, and myself for being in hospital for five days, but also went on to be really nice to him in front of me. (and flirty, let’s be honest, you fancied him pretty bad).

The best ‘friend’ in my early twenties who thought it was ok that our mutual guy friend said to my boyfriend that if he was my boyfriend he’s ‘beat’ me. The ‘best friend’ who didn’t see any wrong that this same mutual guy friend said to me in a spiteful email that I  can’t be depressed because my parents have a ‘nice house and pool’.  Why did I ever put up with this shit. When my current boyfriend read those emails, a while back when I found the whilst deleting years of crap, he cried. He doesn’t cry often but he was so sad to know I was spoken to like that, and so proud when he read how amicable my replies were to every nasty email.  You stood by that guy. You’d known him 5 minutes compared to how long you’d known me. You’d rip him constantly behind his back. Commenting on how shit his band was, how lame he was and how his jeans didn’t ‘fit’ and were too tight on his ass.  You didn’t have my back when you knew how he spoke to me. I have no doubt he spoke about me in an even worse manner to you.

You call that love? respect? friendship?

I’m not about that shit. The best decision I ever made in my life was to walk away from a lot of my family members, and the crowd of ‘friends’ I thought I had. I don’t look back often because hey, i’m not headed that way (cheese cringe lines, I know so many).

But in order to fully heal, I need to finally put this out into the universe and release the feelings i’ve had buried deep down for so long.

I’m not hung up on you. I don’t miss you, I missed the person I thought you were for such a long time. Once I stopped ignoring the negativity you repeatedly threw my way, I realised i’d created this ‘ideal best friend’ in my head and clung on to the good  times. I don’t miss the constant scrutiny and always hearing what your pretentious brother thinks. I know you idolise him, but I didn’t. Like I said earlier, I thought he was a bit of a penis.

I’m not a loser for acknowledging the past. Or reflecting on it all. Even writing a little blog post that only a  handful of people will read.

 

I’m merely human. And for that, i’m not ashamed.