I don’t know if you know this about me but I tend to romanticize my past relationships. The reason I don’t know if you know this about me is because I don’t know what you even remember about me and because I was so young — what relationships could I have reminisced over? I know I already apologized for how I acted back then but what you don’t know is how I cried when I did. My own emotions overwhelm me so much I sometimes don’t realize other people don’t feel them from the outside. I was so mean back then. And I was a child, I was confused and angry, not the way I am now, though maybe I felt like it couldn’t get any worse. I’m sorry for getting upset when you didn’t tell me your parents split up, I now know it wasn’t fair. That must’ve been hard for you. You were so bright, before you realized, and I think it’s not right to think about thatyou that way, since it wasn’t thisyou. Maybe you knew even before then — maybe you hid it forever, put on your masks and curled your hair and kissed a boy because you felt like you had to, because that’s what you thought liking it was supposed to feel like. I don’t know and how could I? How cruel it is, growing up? I’ve thought about you a lot recently, not about the past but the future. I’m too scared to ask you to hang out. I don’t even know what you do, where you are, if you’re happy and feel like yourself. I guess, or I hope, that that’s kind of the same thing. I wonder, too, if I’d remind you of back then, if you could even stand my presence. I know you said you’ll love me forever and that you’re there for me and for a second, I believed you meant it, but you weren’t, were you? Why didn’t you just text me back, that day? It would’ve meant everything. No — not replying did. It meant you lied. Or you were busy or you didn’t care or you even thought it was stupid, how I told you about something so minor that made me so happy that day. Or how I was still the same person with the same interests. I still overshare. I still cry easily. I’m still mean sometimes. Would it be okay if I texted you some time? Are my wounds deeper than yours? I think guilt aches in a different way than hurt. Did it hurt? Do you miss me? Actually miss me? I hope you’d be honest with me this time. I need you to be honest, if I ever decide to text you again. I can’t bleed any longer, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. How unfair I was, how self-absorbed, how self-conscious, how ridiculous. I thought I had all these adult emotions. I was too intense for a girl with my luck. My pain outshone yours in my eyes and I know I was a kid, it was my right, but you were so grown, so mature, while I gave you the cold shoulder and took my moods out on you, you smiled and took it and swallowed it down and kept it. I know you weren’t always honest with me and I got so angry with you, while you were just protecting me, like you always did. You stayed by my side while I clawed at you like an anxious cat, you took the emotional lashings I gave you because I couldn’t understand why you still wanted to be my friend, took them and kept them, even so many years later. And I still don’t understand why you did. I tested you and you failed and I think you knew that, but you also knew I needed a friend that wouldn’t leave me. Instead I left you. I talked about you. I gave you unsure smiles in the school hallways and listened to people mention you in passing and I don’t remember what I felt, I don’t know if I missed you or hated you or was as ashamed as I am now. And I am so ashamed. For what I said, for how I behaved around you, for how I treated you. Why were you so kind? You told me you knew I was going through a tough time, so you got it. Why didn’t I? I claim to be so mature, so aware of those around me, yet I took your silence personally, when your words I would’ve twisted into something they wouldn’t have meant. Do you still talk to your dad? How is your mom? Is your granny still alive? I saw your brother on Tinder the other day and it scared the shit out of me. I saw your ex-girlfriend at the train station. I often think she must’ve reminded you of me — we spoke once, two years ago. She asked me to hang out and told me she was still in love with you but that you blocked her everywhere and I ended up blocking her too because she was too intense and I wasn’t doing good and she overwhelmed me. Did she overwhelm you too? Did I overwhelm you? Do you remember the good times because I struggle to; it wasn’t all bad, I know that. Hell, we were kids. We took videos of ourselves and had sleepovers and rolled around on your bedroom floor. I pretended to like your mom’s cooking and listened to you play the piano. That time we snuck up to your brother’s cool new room to watch that TV show and felt awkward around each other when the two girls kissed. I miss that — I miss you. I wish I would’ve given us more of a chance. I tend to run away when things get difficult and I tend to be the reason things get difficult. I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry about it all.
or:
Hey you
How are you? :)