July 12, 2020

A Letter to a Friend I no Longer Speak to: This is Why I had to Walk Away.


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For more heartfelt reading like this, try: Marry a Man with these 8 Must-Have Qualities.

Dear friend (who I don’t speak to anymore),

I hope you’re doing okay. I know it was my choice to pull away, but I still wish you good things. 

I haven’t forgotten all the fun we had. In fact, it’s a huge reason why it was so hard for me to walk away. We were close, like sisters, and you brought me out of the darkness after a toxic relationship. I can never thank you enough for that.

Thank you for being a light. Thank you for the laughter. I can honestly say that, when it came to you and me, it was always an adventure—I remember feeling free in a way I had never let myself feel before. 

You reminded me that I was powerful when I was weak. You cried with me over my pain. We swapped stories and secrets and tried to rebuild each other after our decades of emotional trauma. But we were filling the cracks with dust and sand rather than concrete and accountability.

I hope you’re doing okay. I hope he’s treating you better now. 

I remember the nights when we laid our demons on the table for each other. I remember you fighting against them. Or at least fighting against acknowledging them. I hope you can untangle those knots. I hope you know I still love you, sister. 

I just had to give you the wide-open spaces necessary to navigate your pain. You know, I struggled for so long trying to decide how to be the best friend I could. I wanted to save you because I love you, and I do see your light. I see all the goodness and that wounded girl within you (even if you can’t). The same you way saw mine.

I thought it was loyalty every time that I picked you up from that house. Every time you went on a bender. I didn’t want you to feel alone. I wanted you to know that there was someone who would stick by your side even when it was chaos. Even when you didn’t remember the things you said the next day. Even when I knew you were using me as a crutch.

I battled for you, my friend. I hope that one day you will see it that way.

I battled for you—with you, with others, and with myself—trying to figure out how to help you.

And as soon as you decide that you want to help you, I will be there. 

But for now, I can only write this in the hopes that you will understand. I had to finally admit to myself that I had become an enabler—I was not loyal. I was trying to be a support system, but instead, I was undermining all the goodness I claimed to see. I didn’t know it then, but I know it now. 

I miss you. I miss the cheese boards and macrame crafting nights and impromptu adventures. I miss cutting up our clothes because we thought we were so cool (well, you were cool, I just tried to be).

I miss sitting by the fire and talking about all the things we wanted to do in the future. I miss you encouraging me to let go of inhibitions, and I miss the drunken nights on the beach. 

You tattooed a piece of a poem I wrote for you on your body, and one day I hope you will truly read it:

My go-fast girl, don’t you know you are the sun?

Whether you are chasing the unknown or running from it,
I love you.

I love your splintering soul, your tattered knees, and your vaulted eyes.
You aren’t of this world.
No, it’s much too small for you.
You need pastures of starlight to ease the pain you’ve seen.

I am here to tell you that the entire host of the cosmos delights in you.
You just haven’t figured it out yet,
and that’s okay.
Run rampant through the unknowninto the depthsbut never let your flame go out!

You carry frantic whispers in your hair
with an ancient finesse.
You will wade through this life
setting fires, planting seeds, kissing away the pain,
and then finding more.

You will love with reckless abandonbelonging to no one and everyone.
Like the untamed rhythms of the sea, you will roar and sing us into submission.

So, go fast, girl. You are the sun.

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