Some Friend 2
The last time I wrote one of these was two years ago, this month actually. I wrote it, put it out for an old friend to see, and never looked back. I’ve always said I would never write something like that again unless I was serious.
I am serious.
Last month a family member died. And I didn’t tell you, not directly. How could I? Three weeks before that you ignored (yes, ignored) my pleas for help, the complete opposite of what a friend is supposed to do. In my message I had said that I thought it was the worst day of my life, because that was exactly how it felt. My social media was hacked. My privacy had been invaded. To put it plainly, I was taken advantage of. And though it only lasted a little under a week, the entire ordeal left me sick and hating myself for allowing something like that to happen; I wouldn’t wish that feeling on anyone.
I reached out to you first, because I needed your support. I needed my friend. I was in crisis, one of those end-of-the-world moments so rare that I can count them on a single hand. Each time, I made myself clear: Can we talk? Please call me. Lmk as soon as you’re free. Each time, you came through. Most of the time.
You received my two calls, along with both texts, “worst day of my life” included. That is not language to be used lightly; in fact it could mean anything. Theft, injury, my great-uncle’s ailing condition which you were certainly aware of…I would have liked to think any of those possibilities merited a proper response.
But you DID respond, within ten minutes of my frantically contacting you. And how did you answer?
Can’t talk today sorry.
The most stress I’d ever felt, and THAT is what you say. Even if you were legitimately busy — which I would never have begrudged you for, we all have our own schedules — you don’t not comfort someone. Take a deep breath. Stay calm. Can’t talk rn but I’ll check in later. Relax, you’ll get through this. Along those lines. When one’s mental state is at their lowest, a response as flippant as yours is the LAST thing they would want to hear. Can’t talk today sorry…after four years of friendship, I just thought I would have been worth more than that.
I gave you the benefit of doubt. I really tried. For all I knew, you were going through a crisis of your own. It just didn’t seem like you to, well, freeze me out during a time something was obviously upsetting me. At any rate, I wasn’t going to dwell on your inaction when wresting my social media back came first.
And then, six days later, my crisis was over. I had my Instagram back, and you still couldn’t talk.
Don’t think that I’d forgotten our past conversations. That you made clear you sometimes require texting breaks, that you would rather not be overwhelmed. So I respected that, keeping my communication to a minimum whenever you requested so. And yet, in my present situation, could you really blame me for my concern?
I texted. I called. Even dropped a message through that Messenger account you barely use. Nothing. I tried to tell myself a rejected voice call was the result of something busy on your end, three-hour time difference and all that. You already had the details in my texts; sooner or later, you would acknowledge me.
Eleven days. It took eleven days for you to finally call. I was glad to at last hear your voice, to be able to unload as a means of catharsis, to know that you were okay. Because you were okay.
You were just ignoring me the whole time.
You told me you didn’t want to hear about my issues. You said I had become too negative over time, that you weren’t interested in anything you deemed “stressful”. I could keep talking movies, Broadway, anything that wasn’t serious, but when it came to what was serious, you were never going to be that friend. Nor would you put in the same effort that I would for you; apparently it was unfair of me to expect such a thing. And then you admitted, point-blank, to ignoring my attempts at communication because I was “too much”. Which was, and still is, insulting.
I have never claimed to have high expectations for friendship. As I have said time and time again, if you can make someone happy at little to no cost to yourself by something as simple as talking to them, then you do it. This goes especially for friendship. Yes, you were not my only friend, but you were a close friend; I counted on you, and you failed me. They say everything in life happens for a reason…I say each crisis shows exactly who the true friends are.
Life is a rollercoaster. The amount of highs and lows are equivalent, and to diminish the latter is downright ignorance. If you refuse to acknowledge my negative experiences then you really can’t expect me to acknowledge you as a friend. You may as well be an acquaintance, and anyone can play that role. You claimed “mental health” on your part; what about mine? This isn’t me invalidating you. This is me saying there were other ways. Had you not sent that apathetic response right away and waited a few days until my crisis had died down to reach out, I would have been none the wiser. You could have put your mental health first without keeping me in the dark.
History repeats; after you disconnected I sat in my car, numb, believing once again that I was at fault. A belief that vanished a few minutes later in a sudden burst of clarity: what is wrong with wanting my friends to care? Absolutely nothing, and I refuse to associate with those who can make your sort of abnormal justification. I also can’t help but be a tad confused — not once in four years did you express any trouble over being there for me. We both had so much going on, yet somehow we found the time to equally contact one another. We had an understanding, and even after your recent treatment of me I was still willing to leave the ball in your court, through a brief text at the very least. I’m still waiting; I guess I thought too highly of you.
Making friends has never been easy for me. I still get anxiety even talking to people. Which is why each connection I have been able to make has been a small victory, including ours. City meetups, personal conversations over WhatsApp, that evening I invited you to my grandparents’ pool before the house was sold and we just talked under the night sky…those moments meant a lot, and it’s truly a shame I won’t have more of them. You now live on the other side of the country and had invited me to visit whenever I want. Why on earth would I want to visit you now?
You have disappointed me. And, even as I continue to try, you have made me question if it is worth even having friends as long as the possibility remains that any “real” friendship can eventually be dropped just like that. What can I say? I never forget the way a person treats me, especially their blatant disrespect.
So I’m putting this out into the ether. Not because I know for a fact you will see this (with your social media track record, more than likely you will not), but because this is my way of saying — be it through here or other means — there is more than one way to remember.
