This is for the man who broke my heart. Not in a romance, for I’ve never had one of those, but in a friendship. Such a close friendship, I thought it would never end. We joked about hanging out in the same nursing home when we get old. We called each other every time one of us was upset, and we’d stay on the phone all night if need be. We had so many inside jokes that practically everywhere I looked, something would remind me of him and make me smile, even on my worst days. And he told me that he wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for me.
No, I’m not sorry you lost me, because you didn’t deserve me anyway. Maybe your old self did, the young man I used to know. The godly, wise brother who I went to with all my problems, who listened to me and made me feel loved and protected even when I felt completely alone. The person who I could always count on to cheer me up, advise me, comfort me, like the older brother I never had.
You know who you are. If you’re even bothering to read this, that is.
I was a young woman, struggling through life, but confident and assured in the fact that no matter what life brought, my best friend would be by my side. I proudly showed off the things you gave me, telling people “This came from my best friend. He’s like my big brother.”
Do you know where those things are now? Burned. Because I’m now a broken person, no longer able to trust in anyone or anything, desperate for some kind of closure to make me stop thinking about the amazing friend who I lost because he lost himself.
You found a girl, and I was so very happy. We made plans for me to be your “best man” at the wedding. I supported you through it all.
But coincidentally, I began to go through an even tougher time in my life than I had been before, and when I reached out to you, you pulled away. Held me at arm’s length. Talked, but did not communicate. I confronted you on this, and you told me I was being clingy and overly dramatic, then accused me of acting that way because I had a crush on you. Because that’s the only reason for someone to need her best friend to be there for her when he refuses to be, right?
I told myself it was just a phase, that if I kept trying, if I was patient, you’d come around and remember what we had, a close friendship that could’ve survived anything.
Or so I thought.
I don’t want to make you feel guilty. I don’t want to call you out. I don’t want you to reply. I just want you to know that someday, you’ll regret the loss of your true self, the kind, caring, generous, understanding young man who would have done anything for his friends in a heartbeat. I regret the loss of him every single day of this thing I call life. But I don’t want you back, because the you I knew is dead and gone, and even were you to resurrect him, I’d never be able to trust you again.
I hope your wife knows how you break your promises, and let down people who depend on you, at the drop of a hat. I hope your kids don’t have depression, because someday when they try to talk to you about it, the new you will shoot them down, tell them their feelings are selfish, and possibly lose them. And I hope you find your true self, someday, because if the you I knew isn’t the real you, then neither is this cold, stoic, unfeeling, unempathetic one. But when and if you do find him, don’t bother looking for me. I hope to have gotten over losing you a long, long time before that happens.
Have a nice life. I really hope you do, despite everything.
If you’re not the person I’m talking to, and you don’t know who he is, but you’re wondering – please, don’t ask. Chances are I won’t want to talk about it, now or ever.