You were my best friend. You played mind games. Maybe you didn’t know you were, but you admitted to doing it to other people and that’s where it officially ended for me. I’m sorry I ghosted you in the end and at times condescended you. We always competed with each other. I never wanted it that way. You may have started it, but I gave into the toxicity. I was always there for you emotionally. I was always there whenever you threatened suicide over a boy. It became routine, talking you out of suicide. I was always there for you. I put you before my own mental health. You were never there for me. If you were, it was always minimal or at a distance. You ignored me in my times of need or made it about yourself. You demonized other people to me so I wouldn’t get close to them. I do miss you, a lot. There were so many good things. When I was with you, I felt like a kid again. You always had warmth to you. You didn’t judge me over stuff most did. It was such a spiritually intimate friendship, and I’ll forever have a soft spot for you. I know you’re operating on a lot of hatred and anger right now. I was too, and I know I still am at times. I try to remind myself that anger is a secondary emotion, an emotion caused by other emotions, so when I’m feelin real mad, I just try to pinpoint what’s causing the anger, and it’s usually hurt, unno? Which is valid. We’re both valid in being hurt. I never wanted to hurt you, but I did, and I am sorry, but I’m not sorry I had to leave. What we had may have been beautiful in some ways, but the toxicity of it outweighed any beauty. I couldn’t sit back and take the blame again for my own hurt. You manipulated me so much whenever I’d call you out. You’d say sorry, but always had an excuse. Maybe you were scared of losing me. I was scared of losing you too. I still can’t believe it’s been almost five months since we had to end it, why did we have to end it so badly? I wish we didn’t have to end it so badly. Maybe you sabotaged the entire friendship, hoping I’d stop you again just like the prior times, but I couldn’t again. I’m sorry we both got hurt in the end. I think about the night we both cut down our arms and held em together, becoming blood sisters, I think about it a lot. I don’t regret it. I’m glad I met you, but I’m not glad that things turned out how they did. A lot of people think you’re a sociopath or narcissist, and I do wonder that sometimes. I do know you have narcissistic tendencies and that they did hurt me, but unno, I hope I helped you in some way at least. I know shit was real heavy for you a lot, and I hope I helped you deal with it at least. You used your hardships for attention and sympathy, sometimes even to manipulate me. I should have never let you, but I did. I’m so sorry you felt like you had to take such measures just for attention, acceptance, and to feel validated. I know that stems from a dark place too awful to confront, a void too vast to contemplate. I hope you end up okay, sis. I’m sorry I hurt you, and I also forgive you. Even if you’re not sorry, I still forgive you, and even if you don’t accept my apology, I’m still sorry. Goodbye, blood sister.
“Don’t chalk it up to some romantic bullshit in the cosmos.”