I've begun to look at everything in retrospection---the sort of things that my friends have already told me about, that I didn't listen to, are finally starting to make sense.
You were a jerk to me because you wanted to make sure that I was aware of the fact that you did not like me like me. I guess that would make sense. Except, there was a fatal flaw in your little plan of action. You were so mean sometimes, I thought you hated me. So I was mean back. And pushy. And bitchy. And needy. And everything else to try and get you to not hate me somehow. I wanted to prove to you that I was a good friend, that I loved you deeply, that you were a brother to me. Your meaness only encouraged me to try harder.
The truth is that I feel very sorry for you now. You don't have the ability to open up to someone about how you feel. You have no one to talk to. I tried to help you. I tried to let you know that I could be trusted, that I would listen, that I would care. But you didn't want that. You didn't think you needed it. You probably still don't.
I, on the other hand, have the support and love of so many wonderful people. I am not alone. I will never be alone.
I'm sorry that you are, or that you think you are. Most of all, I'm sorry that you think you need to be.
You're annoyed, I know. You're angry too. You think I'm creating unnecessary drama, and you're just relieved to be rid of me. You think this'll all be over soon, that I'll come back and apologize and we'll start over again in this sick cycle of ours. That's not going to happen. For the sake of my sanity, that can't happen.
I don't think it has sunk in yet that I'm not there anymore. I'll never be there anymore. When I think about how we'll never be friends again, there's a sharp pain in my chest. You haven't felt that yet, but you will. Because I know that truly, you did/do care.
You're too proud to admit that you hurt me. You're too proud to apologize. You're too proud to admit that you need me in your life.
I'm too proud too. You won't win this time. Neither of us will, really.
This has been cathartic. I think that now, I'm truly ready to just get over this whole thing. I may miss him, but I'm not going to do anything about it. If he feels the need to try and work things out, he'll initiate it. Otherwise, it's not going to happen.
For some reason, that doesn't scare me anymore.