We have been friends for much too long for any healthy person. I’m surprised you’re not in an asylum right now from being my closest friend since we were THREE YEARS OLD. From the very beginnning, we were rocky. We were little kids, and my desire was to be the most-liked girl in the daycare. I apologize for being pretentious. As we went through elementary school and intermediate school, we grew apart but the friendship remained like an invisible string was connecting us together. Then junior high came around and we had some classes together. Slowly we started talking some more, then hanging out again. By the time we were sophomores in high school, I was taking metaphoric bullets from some “friends” for you, and you and your family were my safe house to get away from my increasingly stressful home life. Then it was senior year.
I’m sure anyone close to us could tell something happened. You got a boyfriend, and I couldn’t help but feel as if I didn’t matter as much anymore. My home life got more stressful than other, especially when I started working at that crappy old Sonic. Despite the fact that we had multiple classes together, I never felt more estranged from my best friend. I’m not going to take all the blame for it, but I know a majority of it was my fault. We both changed a lot during senior year. Or maybe it was just me. Our interactions were less frequent, probably due to the fact that when we did talk it always ended with one of us snapping at the other.
I guess what I’m trying to get around to is, I’m sorry. As I started partying with my roommates, sneaking out to hang out with my new “friends”, staying up all night just walking because I didn’t want to go back to my apartment, getting closer to Cameron, I changed beyond all recognition. I was bitter and angry over my situation, and I did a lot of stuff I shouldn’t have because I was tired of doing the same thing over and over again only to be disappointed somehow. I convinced myself that my new friends were better. My new life was better. I was more mature. Basically, I convinced myself to be higher up than you, and I was leaving you behind. Honestly, I was ashamed. I had no other option but to pull away from you except lose all the self-respect I thought I had. I’m sorry that I did. I started going to school hungover or still drunk from a late night of drinking after work. I quit doing my homework and almost failed the last six weeks. I started skipping school when my hangover was too bad. I started cutting again. And I found out that my new friends were just using me for more income, my body and desperation, and cleaning skills. I lost nearly all of them in the span of a couple of months. But you had been my friend since before we started school.
When I finally realized all the crap I had put you through, all the ways I messed up our friendship, you were about to leave for college, and I still didn’t want to humble myself and say I screwed up.
My pride still won’t let me say this to your face. But you have my email if you want to talk more personally than over a blog. You are a beautiful girl, Lindsay. Aaron is lucky to have you. Your family is lucky to have you as a daughter and a sister. I was lucky to have a friend. You are one of the most God-fearing people I know. You care for your family and friends. You try to be kind; you try to always be a bigger person. I know that no matter what you set your mind to, you will can and will get it, God willing. All I can think to say now is this song by the Rascall Flats. I know you know it.
But more than anything, more than anything,
But more than anything, yeah, and more than anything,