Meraki // Poetry & Short Stories

Dear Friend (1)

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Two singular letters to people of my past and present, respectively.
Disclaimers: angsty ranting
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[1-26-17]
Dear Friend,

I hope you're well. It's been awhile since I've seen you last. Well, not really. (Your Instagram feed is doing well, I see).

It might be a stretch to call you friend at this point. It might be a stretch to call you anything other than that girl I used to know, that girl whose mom liked me more than all her other friends because I was polite, that girl whose bike pegs I used to ride on, unblemished knuckles grasping onto t-shirt material as we glided through summer evening's warmth.

It'd be a lie to say I wish I could go back to those days. True, they were quote on quote "golden" no doubt, but everything golden eventually is robbed of its own fortune.

But I'll have you know, I adored you. I held you to such high standards and deemed you the coolest person I knew. I thought we would always be friends.

I was so naive.

But here's to you, you blonde psycho. Here's to your own successes, to the life I thought you would ruin for yourself. Here's to the friendships you amended in the time that you used me for emotional rebound. Here's to the places you're going and the places you've destroyed.

Stay ignorant, Ponyboy. Stay ignorant.

[3-25-17]
Dear Friend,

What would we ever do without snapchat?

Wow- take a step back, girl. That was way too twenty-first century, tone it down a notch.

Heh, if only I were lying.

Snapchat saved our friendship, so I guess I can thank the almighty social media gods or something for our conversations.

Well, that is...when I actually get my lazy butt onto the stupid app.

For you, though, I knew I had to write something remotely nice. You've helped me through some rough stuff, even though leaving me to fend for myself would have been entirely justified. I broke your heart, didn't I? Why are you still hanging around?

Don't you hate me?

You told me you moved on. When I heard those words, I was at first so relieved. You deserve someone who can love you for your quirky self, not someone like me who would only bring you down with negativity and half-assed romance.

I couldn't give you that, that relationship you've earned over the past few years. I don't love you like that. And I'm eternally sorry.

The thing is, I think I could be happy if I was with you. You're kind of amazing in your own weird, meme-lord-y sometimes perverse way. I often think back to that time over the summer - before high school, I believe - that time when we were at the convent with the youth ministry leader to watch horror movies and it started raining. I felt so bad for needing to leave so suddenly, but you came with me, and together we braved the rain and it's wet, bone-chilling power. We ran to the playground and ducked beneath the slide to stay dry and wait for it to let up just a little, both of us huffing and smiling goofy grins because it was summer and we had all the time in the world to be stupid teenagers hiding underneath playground slides.

I still don't know what compelled you to speak, to open your mouth amidst the rush of the weather and the adrenaline pumping through our veins but suddenly it was there and out vulnerably in the open.

I like you.

My heart stopped. My throat closed up. For that half a second of silence, it was like my whole existence froze.

Then you opened your mouth again.

Just kidding, haha!

You played it off like a joke, and I went along with it. I went along with it and found my bike sitting by the garage, hopped on, and rode away through the rain after waving goodbye.

But at home, that night, when the stars hung in the sky and the world as I knew it to be literally did freeze for a few hours, I couldn't let myself forget that it wasn't a joke. I knew that. I knew you panicked and shut yourself and your confession down because as soon as it left the safety of your own heart you became terrified. You second guessed yourself and if anyone understands why, it would definitely be me. That's why I didn't dare, even though I could have texted you later asking you to reconsider or given you the shot you probably still deserve.

I think we're both a little too broken to be fixed by someone who is just as dysfunctional. I can't help you. I can't completely ease that loneliness you sometimes tell me about, because in all honesty I haven't figured it out for myself yet.

But once I start pulling myself together, once I start learning how to exist and make my own happiness again, I'm coming straight to you with an open heart and open soul. I'll fix you if you fix me, but I don't know where that would put us.

Maybe we'll end up together one day. Maybe we won't - and maybe it's better that way, but it still breaks my heart to know that you're out there struggling on your own.

You should transfer, honestly. I would do anything to have one of my least judgmental best friends back at my side.

I hope to see you soon.

Sincerely, me.