The year of being 24 (or the 25th year of my life) may have been the worst so far. I have been heartbroken more times than I’ve kept track of me, I have been betrayed and tricked and lied to, I have lost confidants whom I thought were the most precious people in my life, and I have lost a sense of happiness that I didn’t know I had. I have been lonely beyond belief, even when I was with A, or R, or by myself. The only other time in my life I could remember being this depressed was when my father was fighting with my mom and I thought they were getting a divorce, my sister with her self-harming habit (and she knocked me down to the floor and punched me a few times when I tried to keep her from locking herself in the bathroom), and when my mom had her heart attack.

I’ve thought a lot about the people who have left my life lately. There have been a lot of people because of my incessant dating throughout my teens. Whole groups of friends I can’t remember why we stopped hanging out between MS and HS. People I didn’t like because they wanted to date R, which in retrospect is obviously silly and it’s not like he was some fantastic catch then, or even (especially) in the past year. 

K and I stopped being friends because I betrayed her - I understand now but I was 13 at the time and I know I didn’t get it. 2 years seemed like a long enough time for them to be broken up. My life had only consisted of 13 - how was I supposed to know? I wish I had been smart enough to apologize sooner, I wish you being older would have tried to urge me to mend the bridge. 

N and I stopped being friends because of a text she sent me.

B and I stopped being friends because of how she treated me when I visited her. She made up but never recovered, and shes friends with N.

A because of R. And for breaking trust. I’m sad that you now live far away and I can’t mend things with you. We tried and then it didn’t become of anything.

A because of R. And for breaking trust. I thought you would be a forever friend. 

"I thought he was manic and immature and angry from the start."

I hate to admit that he’s right. It’s so true. And I chose to look past it. In some ways it’s the best friendship I’ve ever had and in some ways the worst. Without it I may have kept R, and thus B/A/B. B/A/B have shown that I could have never counted on them as my own friends though so I don’t know why I’m so sad over it.

Part of me hates that I ever met you. That I let you crawl up under my skin and see the parts that no one else saw, hear the words no one else heard. I hate that I made decisions based on my love for you. I hate that I let your opinions meld with my own.

I hate that my love for you confused me beyond belief. I wonder who I would have been without meeting you. What would have become of R and I. I wonder what will become of us now that you were in my life.

I remember the first weeks after meeting you - the drama, the emotions, the intenseness of it all. How he told me to break it off and oh how I cried and yelled and threw such a tantrum. Looking back it is mind-blowing how attached I was to you already.

You were good at being my savior, my knight in shining armor. I went through the most traumatic event in my life to date, and you were there for me. I am grateful for that, but I also think that it may have also been harder than it had to be.

But months later, you held that over my head as though you had done some great work of charity that needed to be given a tax break.

H told me friends do not do that to friends. That if I ever did that to her she would tell me to fuck off.

Did you really love me? You accused me of using you as a “comfort” blanket, but yes, I took comfort in you, I love/d you. It does not mean that I was using you by any means. Isn’t taking solace in the ones you love normal? Aren’t you supposed to comfort the ones you love?

I feel cast away. I feel hurt that I could be dropped so quickly, so unceremoniously and without regard for my feelings. We talked about the strength of our friendship, being best friends, how we could weather any storm. But I guess not any storm. My chest hurts and my eyes tear and my breath becomes hard to catch when I think of you.

I realize that you are used to being an asshole with your friends. That they come back when you want them again, that you are used to the ebb and flow of friendship. Calling you an asshole, a narcissist, doesn’t make it feel any better. The tears cease for a moment, my lungs fill with air - but it is short lived. I knew you were an asshole and a narcissist soon after we met. You continued to call yourself one while we were together. I don’t know why any part of me is surprised when you couldn’t handle conflict. You dealt with your breakup with M by receding from me and needing to be artificial with others, to fuck around. I guess you must be doing that now.

I hate that I think of you in the silence.