Dear you,

It's going on a month now, that we haven't spoken. Over something you started that was so out of line and beyond ridiculous that I couldn't take it. I wouldn't take it. 

I didn't do anything wrong. You did. You broke our friendship, so why should I have to sit there and repair, and make you feel better? No, it isn't happening. So sorry. You accused me of shit that was so whack, it makes me shake with anger. You're a walking hypocrite, with everything you say and believe. 

Don't tell me it's my fault a certain someone was invited to your last night in town. It's not my responsibility to make sure our hangouts are up to your standards. You certainly have a loud mouth, be a big girl and say what's on your mind. Don't use others to hide behind. And don't tell me "no one" tried to see you while you were here. That's such crap. I was available every time you wanted to do something. The only reason we DIDN't hang out was because of YOU. You and your precious pot. You know I don't want anything to do with it, so it was your fault. You made the decision to do that as opposed to hanging out with me. Whichi is perfectly fine, that's your sad and miserable perrogitive. And to say that YOU wasted all this money to come home for the break......hahaha, that's the biggest piece of horse shit ever. You asked me for $100 to help change your flight because you fucked it up. I did, with the promise you told me of repaying me when you got home. New Year's Eve, who paid for your share of the hotel room, your drinks? Oh, I think I did. Because I wanted my best friend there. And then to sit there and throw all this in my face? You can go fuck yourself.

And on top of it all, threatening to stay out in your beloved California all summer long............stay out there bitch. See if anyone notices you're not around. You're obviously way too cool for your hometown now that you've lived in "San Fran"...give me a break. 

As mad as I am, a part of me still misses you. A part of me wants you to call. A part of me wants to ream you a new asshole. A part of me is still so very vindictive and wants to hurt you the way you've hurt me. I don't know where we stand. 

And apparently, you don't care. 

xoxo, me.

Dear you,

A year has come and gone and I don't have the energy to care anymore. I feel like I would give you the world if I could, but you have trouble lifting a finger to make sure I'm still alive. I'm always going to love you, that's my problem. I can't stand up for myself against you because I'm so petrified of being the picture you've painted of your past. But guess what, if something matters to me and it doesn't matter to you, that doesn't mean you can ignore it completely. At least put forth some sort of effort to let me feel that you still give a shit. I know you love me, but sometimes knowing isn't enough. I want to feel it.

Yours,
joy