I owe you a massive apology, because I’m an arrogant fuck who can’t be bothered to own up to her mistakes until she’s too far into them, to even turn back.
I’m really sorry for being as much of a dick as I was.
I’m sorry because I overestimated the type of person you are, were, and had the capacity to be; which isn’t to diminish you as a person, but rather to hold it against myself that I placed such unreal expectations on another person. You are kind and caring, but you are also childish and immature. But in fairness, so am I.
We’ve brought out the worst in each other; we highlight each other’s non confrontational natures, we dodge from speaking our minds in both positive and negative respects, we fear being vulnerable, we fear making others vulnerable. We fear the concept of relationships because they open up one person entirely to another, which isn’t a thing either of us are necessarily ready to do. We are reserved, we are cautious to move outside our comfort zone.
I know I care about you, and I know you care about me, and this I know because you’ve been a wonderful friend for years. Because you are a terrific listener and know how to respond perfectly, how to bite back with sass exactly when you know I’ll need it, how to remind me that in the end, things will be fine.
You’ve always told me that everything will be fine, and it’s your mantra that got me through so much of these four years away from home. And in that same way, I hope you soon realize that just as you told me, things will be fine in the end.
I miss being friends with you because at times like these, when our entire social circle seemed to be corroding (yet again), we’d always find this weird comfort in complaining to each other like two grumpy old men, about our lives and our friends and the people around us. But then, it was always more of me talking, more of you listening, sometimes agreeing, sometimes disagreeing, sometimes questioning my thinking, but always hearing me out until the end.
That’s always been our dynamic; you’d listen, I’d talk, and maybe that’s why we’re no good for each other. You select your words with caution and restraint, speak them calmly and clearly, but leave most of your thoughts and feelings and opinions unsaid. You are very, very, very restrained. I often wonder if my garrulous nature, my excess of words and vocalized drama, the whining sing-song of complaints and distastes that always spill from my mouth and into your ears, grow to irk you. But you always continue to listen, amused, entertained, drawing up solutions in the brilliantly crafty way you always go about things.
And I wonder now, as we sit in our fully restrained states– two spheres of a Venn diagram, refusing to interact and overlap, if you are in fact completely fed up with me, and if my words finally did their nightmarish work on your tolerance. At one point, we were communicating via a texting-like application where our words and images would last two, three, maybe five seconds. And it occurred to me, that temporariness was the core of our dysfunction and that we feared holding actual conversations via text, via phone, via Facebook, because of their permanence and that their objective presence within our vision for any more than those ticking seconds, would establish a more solidified ground of permanence in the thing that we were somehow, strangely, becoming.
We were communicating via that temporary medium, and at one point, I decided to let you know that I might maybe, possibly have feelings for you. Like-like you, since we’re childish fuckers who can’t express things in the way that twenty one-year-olds should. I stared blankly at the white triangle with the pink lining, with your name next to it. Ten seconds went by. Twenty. Thirty. You responded with a meager “I’m sorry I’m so bad at this.”
Your inconsistencies infuriate me, because you are immature and don’t know how to manage your own feelings. It baffles me, how you can care so much about friends, and be so supportive towards others, yet fall so short in the realm of caring about another person in a more-than-friends context. I think you’re scared of feelings. I’m not saying that in an egotistical you know you like me kind of way. I think you’re scared of the responsibility that another person liking you bears. I think this is why you’ve never actually sustained a lasting relationship with a girl, without her breaking it off with you out of frustration.
Most of all, though, I hope you grow up soon. I know you well enough to know that you are, in fact, a wonderfully genuine person. However you are a remarkably uncertain person, and your uncertainty lies in your lack of faith in your own abilities. I want you to realize how brilliant you are, how caring and genuine you are, how witty and hilarious you are. I want you to love the fact that you have such a fine eye for the problems with our society, and that you have such an ability to be a positive force in changing that.
You’re not smart by nature, but you’re fucking hard-working, and it’s so goddamn admirable. Sometimes, I think the fact that certain things don’t come as easily to you as to others (or that you perceive it this way) makes you lose faith in yourself. Likewise, I think you lack confidence with girls, and when a girl actually displays genuine interest, you run in the other direction because you are baffled that this is happening, you are unsure of what to do, you are afraid to mess it up, and so you mess it up.
The nauseating cliche goes something along the lines that loving yourself is most important, and I want you to realize what a wonderful friend and person you can be. I’m not trying to say “the reason you don’t like me is because you don’t like you” because for all I know, you don’t like me, and that’s fine too. But I think your larger problems of communication regarding clarifying this, are very very much a personal issue, and something I want you to resolve. You’ve turned lots of girls off with it. You’ve turned a girl who’s been your friend for years, off from that.
As a friend, if there’s any of our friendship even still left, I want you to learn to appreciate yourself, and be the best person you can be. I hope we can stay friends. And if you get you worked out, and it turns out that maybe all those flirty messages were with some sort of intent, I hope we can maybe be more-than-friends.
To say “you’re a piece of work” is offensive, but I think that if you get your inner confidence and faith-in-yourself together, you’ll also figure out what you want to do after college. Please please please get yourself worked out. You’re brilliant and kind and adorable, and as a friend, I just want to see you be the best person you can be.