My long, lost friend, where have you been? I hear that you moved to Florida to actually get away from me. You left without even saying goodbye. No matter, really, because you packed some of me in your suitcase. (Remember the poems that your friend found that were from you-know-who? Ha ha, I snuck them in your Bible, where I knew you wouldn’t think to look for me.) I came with you, right between your ears. You didn’t know you couldn’t just shake me off at the airport, did you?
In regards to your new “friends,” how well do they actually know you? I’ve known you since that first lie we told to keep us out of trouble, since that box of crayons I helped you steal, since our manipulative tantrum so mom would get you a pet mouse. I gave you confidence so you weren’t so socially awkward. I helped to lure all those guys in, so you could have all the attention you wanted. It was always us! We had so much fun together. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, for us to be “happy, joyous and free.”
Were your new friends there for you when your grandpa died? I made that go away for you. All of those feelings of hurt and pain from your breakup with your boyfriend? Why would you want to feel that? These new people you have replaced me with want you to sit in that shit. I just don’t get it. I miss you, and I know you miss me, too. We were together for too long for you to just drop me like this. I feel more unimportant to you every day. And I really can’t believe that you told everyone all of our secrets. I’ve always helped people to like you. Nobody will like you now. I don’t even know who you are anymore.
I guess I’m writing you to tell you I feel hurt and abandoned. I will never leave you. You know that. It’s so unfair that I’m stuck with you, but you, for some reason, are able to shove me to the side. It kills me every time you talk about me, gossiping about how terrible I was to you. I can hear everything. So what, it got bad for a few years, but I know we could have figured it out and made it work if you had given me another chance. It’s humiliating to hear you tell your story about us, our private relationship, to rooms full of strangers. When will I get to tell my side of the story, Ev? Never? That’s what I’m afraid of. It’s getting harder and harder to reach you, and all I want is for people to hear me, to know that I’m not all bad. I deserve that, don’t I? It’s like you’ve completely forgotten every favor I did you, not to mention all of the good times.
I just want you to know that despite your actions now, I know you don’t mean to hurt me. We never wanted to hurt anyone, remember? But I’ll always love you. I’ll always be there for you when the “real world” you’ve decided to live in gets to be too much for you to handle. I’m here in Utopia waiting for you. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to reach you, but just know that I’m here. I’ve already forgiven you. Good luck out there, kid.