If I saw you again, I’m not sure we would be friends. The hurt is still real. Real as the gray-blue scale behind your lower front teeth.
You said to me in the mirror, “I am the sort of person with huge blackheads, that’s why I use pore strips.” I never saw a blackhead on you. Your pores were much smaller than mine.
I kept so many things that you released into the world. You were always giving away your home, and I tried to save some of it for you, to put it back together like your disintegrating mind.
Mental Illness, no, you called me from the looney bin when they locked you up. I told you that it’s a social experiment, so take it in and observe! This is your chance, and few people ever get this chance.
And then I drove away with my solar panels on top of the car, and they got smashed. Tragic, but not as tragic as when you burned down your apartment.
While it is much more tragic for the owner, and probably their insurance company, the real tragedy was that your paintings on the wall were then gone. And your bunny cartoons. And whatever else you still had.
But I had your jacket that you had lent me, and I gave it back.
I kept a cup, some Christmas ornaments, and a necklace that you had given me. But I always intended to re-gift them to you.
I can’t though. You must have quit your job at the pharmacy. I don’t see you there anymore. I don’t see your man either. Did you move out?
You always complained of your living conditions. You always said that everything was going downhill, no matter where you were. You would complain of drugs. Was it your boyfriend’s drugs? You would claim every place was bad, I think it was your boyfriend the last two places...
But ultimately, it is not your nest that was the problem.
Looking back, I’m so devastated about your abortion, though I’m quite certain that I would never have changed your mind even if I had tried. You were never one to be good with kids. We do differ in that.
I’m so very sad about your mental illness, and also about our friendship ceasing.
I just have to look back and remember how much I was used, and then I don’t want to call you. I was used for money. I was used for food. My boyfriend was used for food and money too.
I always remember you thanking me though. I still have the organic dish towels. They’ve lost all their color, and they’re covered in spots now. I remember when you accidentally sliced one of them with your knife.
I still have the top to the wooden box. My baby has lost the bottom to it. No matter, the top is beautiful. Maybe it will turn up.
I remember when you squatted behind the old music store. You were like a wild animal coming out of the cold. I’d never experienced having homeless friends until you. Your boyfriend was also homeless.
I remember when you threw that guy’s shoes and cigarettes out of your place, and poured buckets of water on him to get him to leave. That was a hilarious story.
I remember when we all used to hang out together: you me our other friend, and then one random guy from the same apartment complex! Haha. And one of those guys was the one you crushed hard on until he actually finally left his girlfriend for you. I guess either the chase was over or you realized that he smokes too much.
I remember you watching anime and eating salt right out of the jar, night after night. I loved how you always used sea salt toothpaste. I think it represented a new life for me.
You had a knack for finding the most beautiful things. Your gorgeous dividers, and the time you moved to a different city just to live in a historic gorgeous apartment.
I was shocked at how many stunning terrariums you had. You were so before your time with plants and minimal living.
The only man who was ever good for you... You kicked to the curb because he shaved his beard to get a job to support you. He was so broken-hearted that he walked past your work and would look longingly into the window. He would frequent your favorite restaurants and order at a table close to you.
My friend, the artist and con artist. I begged you to come home to our little town. I covered your shift while you went to see your grandmother who you loved so dearly pass away.
It is really a damn shame that we aren’t friends anymore. And why, because I won’t take you out for a free meal? Are you really so petty on the inside?
I need not give you any advice. You used to ask me for advice, but never follow it. You didn’t really want my advice.
Sometimes my advice was bad. Helping you get a job didn’t stop your mental illness.
I didn’t understand your slutting around with older men, but you did lose your father as a teen. I really do feel that this caused much of your problems.
It’s a damn shame that we aren’t friends any longer. I almost loved you like a sister. We were closer than I was to my boyfriend. We were more aligned, back when I was young and even more idealistic. We were so fun together, and a bad pair because we spent so much money together.
I forgive you for not paying me back for the train.
We dragged our friends everywhere. I always wondered if we would stay friends forever. I think friendship just required too much forgiveness and charity on my part after a while.
I’m sorry for any time I was jealous of you, like when you were elected to the board. I’m sorry that things didn’t work out when you were squatting in the hair salon. I didn’t realize that your relationship there had turned sour.
I used to think I deserved to be treated badly, but my loving relationship with my husband has changed my mind.
If you want to have a friendship again, I would like that. I’d like it much more than a “like” on Facebook, or your favorite, twitter. I want to email you. I just haven’t found the words. I don’t think “how are you” does justice.
You were a very charismatic person. Sometimes I fall for people who really do not care about me the same. Everyone loved you. You knew it, too.
I promised our friend that I would keep an eye on you, when she moved to California. I haven’t kept my promise past you leaving the pharmacy job. Nobody knows where you are. I hope you’re okay. I hope things are going well. Maybe you’re in repair. That would be wonderful to hear. If you could at last live somewhere that warmed your own heart.
I should have made you take that good job states away from us. It was the last of the good jobs you were offered. If only I had told you I would move there too, you might have done it. If even for a little bit.
But I didn’t want to leave. I could have, for a summer or so. But it’s all in the past now. No matter. I need to make sure I respect that you wanted no advice, and I did the right thing by setting healthy boundaries.
Do you remember going to the neighboring state to see the plants, and going to the noodle place? That was so awesome. I went there on my honeymoon it was so awesome!
Anyways I could keep going on and on but just wanted to say that I do actually care, and want to have you in my life in some way.