A Letter to the Friend Who Walked Out of My Life

Dear X,

A few months ago, you started pulling away. It became clear that you weren’t as excited to see me, or as available when it came to something I needed. At first, I was confused, because I didn’t see a reason for it, and then, I told myself that what you were saying was true — you were just too busy (although I’ve always believed you’re never too busy for your priorities).

It just took me a while to accept that I no longer mattered to you. There was the usual disbelief, ego-hurt, disappointment/anger cycle. I am human, after all.

But then, I realised, so are you.

While I may not understand why you chose to exit, I do know that if I had chosen to, I would want you to respect that decision and let me go. I would likely be annoyed and upset if you kept trying to force your friendship on me, and would probably work even harder to avoid communication with you. And that, ex-friend, is why you haven’t heard from me.

I don’t think it would do either of us any good to tell you that I felt disappointed, sometimes insufficient, and most times just very hurt by your suddenly inability to see me, because you were the one who used to see me so clearly. You helped me see my goals like they were a reality waiting to happen, and encouraged me to start acting on those dreams I had been sitting around just dreaming. So, while it major-sucked, and while a dozen immature reactions regularly flooded my brain, I decided I didn’t want to be that girl. We always talked about being our best selves, about maturing and growing, and loving and living, and that was always what I admired about you. You encouraged me to look past my insecurities and see this very- possible, amazing version of myself.

So this letter is not an angry, “here’s how you made me feel” type deal.
This letter is not a “I am better off without you, this is your loss” type deal.
Real life is not a Tumblr feed, and we will likely both survive this, and continue to thrive.

This letter is an attempt at handling this like an adult, like the version of me that you helped me believe in. So thank you for the following: being my tea and soft lights and comfort friend, being my online shopping and “wow, how did we end up so broke”, and “yes, you should buy that Alexander Wang bag while in between subway stops with a spotty internet connection” friend. Thanks for explaining to me how eBay works, and being the reason I walked into a Tiffany’s store, and trying what was supposed to be the world’s best grilled cheese sandwich with me. Thanks for introducing me to music and poetry I would have never listened to otherwise. Thanks for telling me your story, and your pain, and inspiring me, because you did.

When I was angry, I thought I regretted helping you with your work. But that was an incorrect diagnosis of what I was feeling. Turns out I wasn’t angry, and I didn’t regret it. I was sucker-punched in my heart place, and I felt used, because you didn’t help me with my work, and most importantly in my mind, you didn’t tell me why you left.

Those were the excuses I held on to to justify being upset with you, but (wo)man, am I glad I managed to let them go. I made my tea myself, and I found other friends to stalk online dress sales with, and I saw you being happy with your friends. I saw you succeeding, and I was a little proud? Happy? I don’t know. I’ve always thought that you were pretty phenomenal, and that’s why I became your friend. And when we did become friends, I was sure I had lucked out.

I’m happy we got to know each other for a little bit, because I certainly gained from it, and I hope you did too.

It’s done now, and I might never see you again, but I think it’s enough to know that for a little while, I felt like our friendship was magic — and that’s all we can ask for in life, isn’t it? A little bit of magic to make the hard parts easier.

So good luck to you, and I hope I hear your name announced at a big awards show, and I hope you’re wearing a fantastic dress,

because I saw your hustle, and I saw your heart, & I believe in them both.

Fingers crossed one day you think of me with fondness, and if we ever run into each other again, the next cup of tea is on me.