I once had a friend. A really, really good friend. One of those people who you think of as part of your family. He was my brother and the only person who ever truly saw me for me. He knew my secrets, my quirks, my traumas, all my history, fucked up family dynamic, goddamn everything about me…All the things that made me who I am and why I do the things that I do.
I used to joke that he was the male version of myself. We were both tall, lanky, awkward looking motherfuckers. You rarely got one without the other. We were friends for years. He was the god father of my daughter. He moved in with me. For once in my life, I actually thought my life was good and maybe things would be okay.
But like everything, I went and fucked it up.
I was blind to it. I was. I brushed off the obvious because all I wanted was my fucking best friend.
But then he began to get aggressive. I had to lock my door. I stopped buying alcohol. He liked me and I wasn’t reciprocating. I made it so fucking obvious that I just wanted him as my friend. His exact words were “I feel like I’m going fucking crazy.” I woke up to him taking a picture of me in my bed while I was asleep. Like phone peeking around the corner, trying to hide it. Creepy, but I didn’t have my glasses on so maybe it wasn’t what I think it was. And then he began writing.
He kept a journal where he wrote all the sick and twisted things he wanted to do to me. I couldn’t even force myself to read it, not wanting to see my friend like that. But I took pictures because I’m notorious at gaslighting myself and at least I had the proof.
I told him I wasn’t comfortable anymore and maybe we needed some time apart so he can figure his shit out. But I got home after work and he was gone, all of his stuff packed while he left all the trash for me to pick up and clean. I felt abandoned. I just needed time to process, not have my best friend suddenly disappear from my life.
He sent a text. He said it was better that I come home to his stuff gone and maybe someday we could be friends again.
A year later, I think about him all the time, all the memories shared and the laughs between us. The DND games, the memes, inside jokes, my daughter, everything. I reach out. Hoping I can maybe once again have my best friend in my life. My second daughter is born and she’s sick. She’s going to die and I just need my friend there to support me. I need someone to fucking be there!
He has a new girlfriend. Wife now. He blocks me and she sends me paragraphs of hurtful words, calling me everything under the sun. I didn’t know people legitimately used “dusty” as an insult.
He told her I was the worst person and I ruined his life. He said I kept him from his family, kept him from getting a job, used him, and led him on to get him to do things for me. None of that is true! Is it? It’s as if he’s completely disregarded years of friendship. I think back to our time as friends and all I ever did was encourage him. I helped him graduate high school, told him to quit the job that was causing him mental stress and I would take on the financial responsibility if it simply meant he was happy, drove him to appointments, took him an hour away to play DND with his sister.
Am I a terrible person? Did I really do all these things? Does that justify how he made me uncomfortable? I talk to my therapist and she tells me what I want to hear. Or is she? Am I in the wrong? I’m losing my mind and have no one there to remind me of what is real.
jacobvanloon
blakekathryn
turnnoffyourmind
pixelskylines
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