The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows

It’s 4:47 am. You’re probably fast asleep while I battle my familiar fits of insomnia. My back hurts from having leaned against my wall for the last 4 and a half hours and my hands keep balling into fists, leaving little crescent marks from my nails in my palms. I find myself wondering if we can ever be friends again; we left things uncomfortably strained and awkward. I find myself wondering if I even want to pick up where we left off.

It’s hard to bring myself to want to talk to you because I’m just so fucking angry at you. How dare you paint me in colors of carelessness, selfishness, and promiscuity on your canvas of self-pity just because I’m trying to find a way to bring an end to my habits of loneliness. How dare you disrupt the simple sweetness we once found in each other’s company just because you’re feeling insecure about where you stand with me. How fucking dare you be so cruel.

We both knew what we were getting into years ago when we decided we would try to be more than friends; we knew there would be difficulties, but we knew that it would be worth the risk. And it was. After we went back to being friends, everything went back to normal. We came out okay. But now, years later, you call pause and throw a fit because my “talking about guys in a non-platonic way” bothers you all of a sudden?

“I need boundaries,” you said. I didn’t know your “boundaries” entailed you dishing about all your hookups and romances, but I’m prohibited from mentioning my feelings about guys I really care about. No, those guys are my “exploits”. Your shenanigans are just you growing out of your shell, now that you’re a cool college boy, oozing masculinity, sensuality, and a newfound confidence. I have no problem listening to your stories and having a conversation about whatever it is that’s on your mind; I love being there for you. Is it really asking too much to have someone listening on the other end of the line when I need a friend who isn’t going to judge me for being a stupid, hopeless romantic? You want honesty and openness, but there really can’t be any if I’m constantly worrying about what I can and can’t say around you.

I’m sorry if your being my best friend is an inconvenience to you. I’m sorry I see you as my confidante and the subsequent need for you to be in my life causes you discomfort. I’m sorry you feel whatever distress it is you feel, but it’s not going to go away just because we’re in different states. You, of all people, know I’m not one to avoid confrontation- and I can’t avoid this anymore. I’m tired of being alone in this friendship.