E.,

It makes me sad that you have no idea just how much this friendship is suffering. I guess that is essentially the entire problem. For as long as we’ve all been friends, you’ve been known as The Flake. For many years we all assumed you knew this. Until this summer. I came to realize that you didn’t know you were the least dependable person we all know. 

You always say “Dude, you really are my best friend.” Do you say this to make me feel loved? To make me feel special? As much as I love you, because you know I always will, I do not need to be told that I am your best friend. I don’t lie in bed at night thinking, “Well at least I’m her best friend.” I don’t need to hear this because I know it’s not true. Every time you say it, it actually makes me feel worse.

I tried to talk to you. I had points laid out. I knew events and dates that you let me down. But you didn’t understand. You felt attacked, and I was shocked. You had no clue of your destructive ways. You didn’t understand all that you had done. When I brought up the Coffee Incident, you said that was “so long ago, dude. Like what do you actually want me to do about that now?” I didn’t want you to do anything. I just thought if you could remember that you made me wait at the coffee shop for an hour before my plane took off, before I’d leave the city for two years, honestly believing, “This time she’ll show. We never said goodbye. She’s gotta show.” You’d understand how badly you hurt me that day. That a part of our friendship broke that day. And pieces of it have been breaking every time you’ve let me down since.

Now there’s nothing left to save. We’ve been holding the pieces together of what was once a beautiful friendship. We’re smiling, pretending, desperately hoping this shell of a friendship could be made whole again. But it can’t. The pieces don’t fit anymore.

I have tried so hard to make this work, but I can’t do this anymore. I’m coming to learn that I need consistency, too. I need dependability. I need support. I need a real friend. And I have that in other people, not you. I guess in part, I’m to blame, too. We all are. We never told you that we couldn’t count on you. We always made a joke of it when you didn’t show. We should’ve mentioned it the first time, not years later. But that’s the way it all turned out and I’m sorry for that. 

So this is goodbye.

I love you and I wish you the best, but honestly, my heart can’t take this anymore.

I will always have the best memories of you, laughing hysterically while driving around the city, blaring bad 90s music and smoking cigarettes in our high school uniforms. Late nights drinking until 6AM and having to work in the morning. When you actually showed up, you were amazing and a wonderful friend, but I can’t keep guessing anymore when you’ll actually show up.

xoxo
E.M., age 22