~Memories From The Back Drawer~
I don’t know if I regret what happened between us that last year of high school. I look at other’s faults, and I admit you weren’t evil. We got along so well for so long, even your family welcomed me into their home.
I sacrificed time and energy on our friendship. I really thought you had something to offer. Sleepovers, deep conversation and laughing till dawn, all gone down the drain.
You started to bug me, and I was not the first one to notice. I hadn’t realized how self-centered you really are. How insecurity was masked with ego. How much jealously you were capable of. How your family leaked the same qualities.
I’ll never forget what you said to me during volleyball try outs. I don’t know why I didn’t drop you then. “If I make it and you don’t, we’ll still be friends, right?” I kind of just looked at you. “Sure,” I muttered, knowing I had a better chance of making it anyway.
I was right. I made the team. You ran home and cried about it to your mother. You still showed up the next day, begging to be put back on. Your mommy made it happen, while the rest of us just stared in silence.
But sometimes when i’m reminded of you, I wonder if we could start again. Would it be worth starting over? I wonder what you’ve been up to and if you met anyone new. Maybe you’ve changed, I know I have.
And then I wonder why I’m giving you a second chance. I think it’s because I’m tired of loosing friends. Nostalgia, perhaps? We had some good times.
I miss certain things. I’m an advocate of change, I just need time to adjust. I have decided that I don’t regret losing you. We wouldn’t have lasted very long. You were, after all, starting to bug me.
What I do regret is that day in art class when you began talking to me about friendship. You told me I was your best friend, and this was around the time I was just starting to break away. I knew you weren’t my best friend. I hated saying it back, but I didn’t want to be rude.
For once in my life, I should have been rude.