You don’t know the half of it.
I was your first legitimate friend at school.
I hung out with you almost every day after school.
I got you out of your house when you didn’t want to be there.
My family adopted you.
My mom and dad drove you places when you needed a ride.
My grandparents always asked about you because you were deemed one of us.
I got you to talk about your problems you were having and tried to help the best I could.
I held you when you finally let them overcome you and you realized, yeah, it was okay to cry.
I listened when no one else would.
I tried to help you quit smoking.
I did everything I could to convince you how much you meant to me when you wanted to kill yourself.
I went to a higher source because my showing you how much I cared wasn’t enough to convince you otherwise.
When that higher source said you were fine and they were already doing all that they could, I wasn’t satisfied with that. I fought harder to make sure that someone would make sure you’d be okay.
I called my dad at two in the morning to go to your house to make sure you were still okay because we were all worried about you.
I threw you a surprise birthday party to show you that even though you wanted to kill yourself there were so many people who wanted you here because you made all of us laugh.
I looked at the scars and held you because I know what it’s like to want to quit.
I convinced you to audition for Chambers because you’re a good singer and for some reason you’ve been told otherwise.
I gave you my only copy of my favorite book. I never do that.
A month or so after your lowest point you stopped wanting to hang out with me.
I kept fighting to see you even though all you wanted to see was your girlfriend.
I kept trying because even though everyone told me you were telling all of them how much you disliked me. I was convinced that couldn’t be true.
I fought for you. I did everything I could to let you know that you weren’t alone and that I was right here for you.
You decided you didn’t want me anymore. You had better things to do and your life was better off without me in it.
You say I was awful and made you feel guilty about everything.
You say I was the worst friend you ever had.
And for some reason I find myself missing you.
Missing the friend I had.
Missing all the times we stayed out late and made ridiculous trips to Walmart.
Missing the person who would sit on the windowsill and talk with me after rehearsal about everything.
Missing my constant model for my photographs whenever I had a new idea.
Missing the night that we walked across the river even though we could hear the ice breaking underneath us.
Missing the times we watched scary movies and you got so scared and grabbed onto my shoulder so hard that I was bruised for the next week.
Missing the times we simply sat on my floor and listened to music and talked.
Missing the times we sat there and you showed me all your “scary” music and we laughed about the ridiculousness of the latest FMLs on your phone.
Missing the times when we’d walk down my road and get names yelled at us.
Missing having to wait at the gate even though they knew our car and all of us so well and had seen us a million times.
Missing all the awkward bullshit.
Missing the insanity that was our friendship.
So, if that counts as being the worst friend you ever had, so be it.
I hope you’re happier now.