Jan 2016
I’ve been thinking about what to say for a couple of weeks, long before my birthday, and yet I still cannot articulate the words that I really really want to say. I know that we aren’t friends anymore and that we don’t talk anymore, but still I would’ve thought that after so many years of friendship and after everything that we have been through, you would’ve text or called or something for my birthday. In my mind, I thought that what we had, the bond that we had shared was stronger than that. Despite everything that had transpired. Even though we were not talking, I still wished you a happy 18th birthday. I knew that that was a milestone for you, I knew that it was a major occasion. I swallowed my pride, even though I was still extremely hurt and mad at you. I did that and against better judgement will still continue to do that, because believe it or not you are still the first person I think to tell things to. You are still the first person that I reach to call whenever things in my head are going to ****.
Last week, I was at A&T; with one of my friends Britni and for some reason, I started going down memory lane. Friday, it started with looking through my Instagram and then onto yours and then to my very old account. I then moved to Facebook, looking through all of our stupid videos and pictures. Then I ventured to your mother’s account. And as I swam deeper and deeper into the memory pool that mainly consisted of us, I got sadder and sadder and sadder. First it started off one eye tear stream and then I got up and walked to the bathroom and my vision became blurred with our smiling faces and mascara burning its way down my cheeks.
Even now, I am sitting in a stairway contemplating sending this to you or just saying, “**** it, she doesn’t care about you anyway”, and proceed with my original plan of getting drunk tonight with you on my brain. But I don’t know, maybe I need to send this, get all of this off my chest like my therapist says. Maybe sending this to you will help me sleep more, maybe it will help to let go of the past. I really don’t want to cry anymore. I really don’t want to keep waking up in the middle of the night thinking of you. Pathetic I know, because you don’t feel the same.
You don’t have to respond, it’s okay.
-Nai
(21/11/2015)
Last week, I was at A&T; with one of my friends Britni and for some reason, I started going down memory lane. Friday, it started with looking through my Instagram and then onto yours and then to my very old account. I then moved to Facebook, looking through all of our stupid videos and pictures. Then I ventured to your mother’s account. And as I swam deeper and deeper into the memory pool that mainly consisted of us, I got sadder and sadder and sadder. First it started off one eye tear stream and then I got up and walked to the bathroom and my vision became blurred with our smiling faces and mascara burning its way down my cheeks.
Even now, I am sitting in a stairway contemplating sending this to you or just saying, “**** it, she doesn’t care about you anyway”, and proceed with my original plan of getting drunk tonight with you on my brain. But I don’t know, maybe I need to send this, get all of this off my chest like my therapist says. Maybe sending this to you will help me sleep more, maybe it will help to let go of the past. I really don’t want to cry anymore. I really don’t want to keep waking up in the middle of the night thinking of you. Pathetic I know, because you don’t feel the same.
You don’t have to respond, it’s okay.
-Nai
(21/11/2015)
