Letter 7

Dear you,

I shut my eyes and try to breathe, but his voice floods my thoughts. I hear our late-night phone conversations. I remember the laughter in both our voices. I reminisce about what was, and I forget what is.

I’ve obsessed with trying to understand what changed. I’ve convinced myself there is something I’ve missed, something that explains it all. But there’s nothing to be found.

We were friends, and now we’re not, I tell myself. Then, I tell myself, no, we were never friends. I was never someone he cared about; I only cared about him. Ironically, I was not the one who pursued what I thought was a friendship, yet I’m the one who feels dropped, unappreciated, and confused.

I hate these feelings. They hurt me. They consumed me with a void of loneliness, I regretfully only want one person to fill.

My brain tells me to forget. There is no logic in wasting thoughts on someone who has left you feeling insecure. But my heart hangs on. She replays the moments when I was nothing but happy. She whispers to me, figure out what happened and fix it. She wants to feel as she once did.

I felt I was able to talk to him, and he understood. He got what I was saying. Our conversations always flowed. There were times he completed what I was saying or even thinking. I close to never had that before. I get along and appreciate people, but that click rarely appears.

I’ve tried to synchronize my brain and my heart. I’ve tried to figure out what the picture is. Everything is still confusing, though. Perhaps my answer lies there. When something is right, there is a good feeling. It should leave me happy. Things should be clear. I shouldn’t be locked in hesitation. I shouldn’t have a knot in my stomach knowing he will give me no response.

I focused a lot of my recent time wishing things didn’t end. Wishing that he would talk to me like he once did. Wishing I knew what went wrong. Wishing I really did have a friend.

I don’t know what to do to feel better. I just feel sad. I guess time will be the healer because nothing else seems to work. But time takes time, and this crummy feeling is heavy. He gave me the illusion of a good friend at a time I was feeling loneliest. He made me happy, and now I wish he hadn’t.

I know that disappointment is part of life. I know that there are so many worse situations, but there are also so many better situations. This bites. The only thing that’s somewhat helping me get over this is that I didn’t need him as a friend; I wanted him. 

Yours Truly,

RCG