Dear

I am not her.  I cared about you.  And true, I did use you.  But you weren’t some forgettable little friend who I don’t care about.  I cared about you.  I lied to myself too.  I told myself that you were my best friend, the person I had been searching for my whole life.  So, when I texted you that you were my best friend ever, I thought it too.  And remember all those days when you told me you were so bad at everything, I listened to you those days, even though I wanted to tell you that I’m not athletic because I was born that way, I exercise two hours every day, to look the way I do.  So does the rest of my family, we fight to look the way we do.  And you are probably more beautiful than I am.  You could probably do better than me in cross country or soccer, but I work so freaking hard.   I get two less hours of sleep every night.  Sure, I love it and it covers up that I am sad.  It easy to cover everything up.  You could too.  I’m sure you are busting your butt on your novel, and because of that you are better than I am, but you could work as hard as I do on everything else and could be better.  I surround myself by all these talented people, and I belong there because I work hard.  I spend thirty minutes at night doing exercises and go running in the morning.
 I thought that I listened to you.  I was there for every other freaking person on the whole planet, and I thought you were there for me.  For example, yesterday three people cried on me.  People that have laughed at me when I started crying.  You were my person, because I can’t run around being everybody’s tissue, while I don’t have anyone.  Now I sound like I think I am all amazing, which I’m not.  I used you, and I’m sorry for that, and I think about that at night.  I think that I should be there for you, and I do notice when you are sad, but I don’t do anything.  With everybody else, they can cry on my shoulder, but I don’t have to walk them through it again the next day, they get over it.  You don’t.  And I realize that that isn’t your fault, but that is exhausting.  When I told you time after time that you were amazingly talented, that was exhausting.  Maybe that isn’t your strength, and that is okay.  Now I’m a hypocrite, because I know that I’m not that amazing at it either, but I still think I’m going to the Olympics.
And just because I left you all alone this year doesn’t mean you should throw me in the dirt.  If you feel like this relationship is over, then just leave it, but I don’t think it is.  I think that you are no longer my best friend, but I still care about you.  I want to be able to ride the chairlift and laugh together, and I trust you.  I want to still have sleepovers where we get hyped up on sugar and dance and talk about guys.  And I am over myself now.  I have learned how to balance my life, and I still want to be friends, so if you can.  I want you to forgive me.  And I think I can help you, just the way you saved me.  So thank you for all the memories, and thank you for all the things I haven’t thanked you for.  I hope we can see past our past and start a new friendship.
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