And it's at times like this that I've needed you the most. But you're not here. I could possibly text you, if I dug through my papers and found your number that I deleted three weeks ago. Or I could message you on Facebook if I didn't have too much pride to unblock you. But you left me for a reason, and I'm still coming to terms with it. I miss you. And when my life is a mess or I'm having a bad day, or I'm feeling lonely, or bored, or extremely happy, I want to tell you. But I can't. Because I told you that I wouldn't contact you again. And I won't. But I'm writing to myself, to spell out that it's very, very hard not to. What's even worse is that I should hate you. After all that we've been through and after all that you did, I'm still sitting here missing our friendship. And all the hate and anger and fear that have been coursing through my veins for the past 7 months quietly subsides when you enter my mind. For some strange reason, I feel no ill will towards you at all. I don't know why, because I should. I should hate you, or at the very least really, really dislike you. But I don't. I just need you. I need a friend. I need a friend like you. I need YOU. But I can't.



And I'm trying to stay "strong" and pretend I can handle this on my own. It works for the most part. But for the past month and a half, I've just been waiting for the inevitable breakdown. I've felt it coming on, but it just hasn't happened yet. Like the growling of Mt. Vesuvius or the slight tremors before a devastating earthquake, it's coming. I'm just waiting for myself to snap and cease to function. And I have no one to tell. Except you. Because you understand. Because you've been there. And you are the single human being on the planet that can calm me and stop the breakdown. Or maybe you can't. Maybe you'll just hold me until it's over and everything will be alright again. Maybe. But never. Because you're not here and you never will be. And I'm trying so hard to come to terms with that.



But you were an amazing best friend. I told you anything and everything. Nothing was off limits at all. It was freeing. You were my freedom. You've worked hard to support me and I'm incredibly thankful for that. You pushed me through literally the most difficult times in my life. But as soon as I seemed to be ok, you vanished. And now I'm sitting here mourning your loss like a confused puppy. It's pathetic. And in order to avoid calling you or texting you, I'm sitting on my couch writing this, trying to make myself hate you for abandoning me, but I can't. It's not working. I'll never hate you like I should because I loved you. I love you. And if you called me at 3am asking for anything in the world, I would be delighted to bring it to you. But you won't. Because you don't love me. You never loved me. I was a crutch and a rebound and now I'm a thing of the past. And I have to remind myself over and over that my illusion of seeing you again and seeing the shock and surprise and pure joy on your face at the sight of me, is just that; an illusion. One that will never come to pass.



You were my best friend. And now you're a ghost. And as much as I need you, I need to get away from you even more. This is what you've done to me. This is how you make me feel. And that's not healthy at all. I'm obviously unstable enough as it is. Even if you came back from the dead, who's to say when you'll disappear again and leave me hanging once more? I don't need you. I need to rely on myself. Not an ex or an ex friend or ex best friend or anyone else in the world. Me. Just me. The hardest part about any problem is admitting you have a problem. Here I am admitting it. The next step is admitting you need help. Here I am admitting that I need help. The next step is asking for help. This is me, asking for help. And getting it. I'm looking up a mental health counselor today. I miss you, Richard, and I miss our friendship. But this is me also saying, I'll never see you or talk to you again. And I'm not ok with that, but I will be. In time, I will be.