I’m not busy at all this weekend. I’m just not ready to see you and pretend like everything’s fine.
I want to forgive you. I really do. For you and for me. But it’s probably not going to happen this weekend.
So far, the scariest part of letting you go is that it’s starting to feel better than holding on.
I was sure we’d be sitting at Central Perk sipping lattes by now, laughing about life until our sides ached. Full disclosure, I’m tired of pretending that telling the truth doesn’t feel so right.
I’m tired of investing so much into our friendship and getting blamed for everything that goes wrong in it.
I have not been a perfect friend. But I’ve been a good one.
My words have reflected my true character and good intentions. I am giving myself the freedom here to let it all out, and still, I approach our troubled friendship with love.
I hate it.
I wish you would take some responsibility for how you’ve treated me over the years. I want to forgive you and move on either way. I might as well get a few more things off my chest since I’m here.
I think your husband is a jerk. You said those awful things to me to cover for him. I saw his true colors a long time ago.
They’re ugly.
It scares me that I’m right, and he is every terrible thing that I think he is. I’m scared that he’s going to hurt you if he hasn’t already.
I can’t do a damn thing but write about it.
We’ve been friends for almost thirty years. You’ve pushed me away for at least half of them. It was your defense mechanism when things were shitty. I showed up anyway — no questions asked. It’s kind of my thing. I think it’s what you love most about me. And what you’ve taken for granted all these years.
I don’t know where to begin a healthy relationship with you. My boundaries are exploited time and time again. I don’t know who I am madder at; your husband for being the slithering scumbag he is or you, for allowing him to poison our friendship.
If I’m being honest, I’m mad at myself right now for being vulnerable in this letter.
Your husband has driven a wedge between us so big that I don’t know if I can get to the other side. It seems like he controls everything, and I’m fighting a losing battle.
The day your son was born, he didn’t even have the decency to tell me you were going into emergency surgery.
I feel like he didn’t want me there.
Your son has a massive chunk of my heart. I want him to hang onto it and always feel how much I love him no matter what happens.
I’m scared that things have become too complicated. I can’t navigate our friendship anymore.
I’m scared that I will never meet your daughter and they will never know just how great of friends we used to be. I guess these are all the reasons why I’ve been avoiding you in the first place. It’s so much easier to cut you off than to have this conversation in real life.
The scariest thing is not being there when you need me the most and not knowing if I can be anymore.
Thank you for listening. ❤ D
—
A version of this post was previously published on Medium and is republished here with permission from the author.
—
◊♦◊
Talk to you soon.
If you believe in the work we are doing here at The Good Men Project and want to join our calls on a regular basis, please join us as a Premium Member, today.
All Premium Members get to view The Good Men Project with NO ADS.
Need more info? A complete list of benefits is here.
—
Photo credit: unsplash