Twelve years ago I fucked you in the ass on christmas eve in your parents living room by the light of the tree. I remember you smoking a cigarette afterwards and not saying anything. You didn’t smoke back then and you are rarely silent about how you feel.
A few months ago we were talking and you told me you’ve never had an orgasm like that since.It’s strange what happens over the years and how time changes somethings and not others.
“We were young and didn’t know what we were doing, but you’re still the best fuck I’ve ever had.”
We’ve been friends for 18 years.
Fuck, really? 18 years?
This year might be different. I’m not sure if we’re still friends? I actually wonder if we’ve been friends all these years? Maybe I’ve just been something solid for you to hold onto in the darker times that have hit over the years. Something to hold up to the light and use to feel ok. An idea, a concept. I don’t feel like this is an equal exchange anymore.
Maybe I’ve just gotten rigid and unforgiving as I’ve grown over time and I just can’t take getting burnt by people any more. You’ve burnt me a few times. Once you left me homeless and fucked. I forgave you. It took a while.
I don’t know if I need to work on my shit around forgiveness or not, but I don’t feel like I need to waver around in my resolve with you while I try and figure it out.
You’ve hurt me too many times and haven’t been there enough for me when I’ve needed someone for me to want to risk getting hurt again. It makes me feel incredibly lonely and sad to think about letting go and not holding onto you. I love you, I’ve always loved you. You were the first person I ever fell in love with. A lot of me believes that you’re the only person (so far) that I’ve ever truly fallen in love with. I care for you in a way that’s different than any one else I’ve cared for. You’ve broken my heart so many times, maybe this has to be it? Because you don’t seem to get it.
You don’t seem to get that maybe I won’t be here for you one day, to help you pick up the pieces of another heart break, another death of a friend, another sad night of drinking too much. You don’t seem to want to balance this friendship by offering me the same care that you’re hoping I’ll offer you.
Thanks for bailing on me after I took care of you for almost two months.
“So long and thanks for all the shoes. -NOFX” is what you texted me. You lefts some socks and underwear in my room. The package you asked your mom to send arrived today.
Thanks for leaving me high and dry. Thanks for the jokes and stories, then leaving without saying good bye. You’re beautiful but you haven’t changed.