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I still miss you, and I ******* hate it.
I don’t want to miss you. You were my friend for a long time, and then you betrayed me worse than I could have imagined. When I explain to people what happened, most of them are like “***? sue that guy!”
But I don’t want to “sue that guy”.
I want to understand that guy. I want to talk to that guy and find out why he did something so malicious to me. I want to remind that guy that I’ve held everything he’s ever told me in confidence, that I cheered for him when good things happened, that I let him vent and then helped him boost his confidence when less-good things happened. I want that guy to remember he was my friend and he was… admired.
And you know what? I kinda want to hate that guy. Or at least be really, really ******* angry with that guy.
But here we are, two years-ish (?) later, and I still ******* miss you and I still ******* hate it, and I’m going through the worst experience of my whole damn life and my brain is like “I wish I could call J and tell him everything and he’d give me a serving of that no-nonsense tough-love advice with just a little dollop of genuine tenderness on the side”. Except I can’t call you, you made sure of that. And I don’t think that you have any “tough love & tenderness” left for me, anyway.
This is such ********. I do not want to think about you and I definitely don’t want to miss you, you big, blue-eyed, talented, intelligent, mean-spirited, aloof, avoidant *******.
****.
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