I didn’t mean to do that

Thinking back on last night, I don’t really know why I said what I said.

Earlier that day, I was determined to break it off, to let you go a bit more, to stop caring as much, because it didn’t seem like you wanted me to stick around. It didn’t seem like you wanted to stick around me either.

Then later that night, you flip the tables. Well, you reacted the way I expected you to. You said goodbye, with all your dramatic flair, which I just deemed unnecessary. I expected some measure of letting go, but I didn’t expect goodbye. For me, it showed your lack of good faith. You talk as if we haven’t gone through anything together, like we haven’t made any memories, like it was all so easy to throw everything away, like we weren’t friends.

I was not going to stand for such bullshit. How dare you insinuate that I didn’t care about you? You selfish bastard. You don’t tell me things because you don’t want to involve me in your problems and drag me down with you? What the fuck? You need me to help you fix it. Don’t be so inconsiderate. Classic it’s not you, it’s me. Shut up.

You say that half of you wants to close yourself off from the world, to detach yourself from people, including me, because they simply do not give a damn about you and your problems. That half thinks it’s better to fix yourself first, by yourself, because no one wants to be friends with someone who’s broken and can’t deal with their own shit. The other half berates you for even thinking that, because that other half knows that somewhere along your life, you need to let people in once in a while. That other half knows that it’s okay to trust other people, because they help you heal.

I asked you, which side do you want? What kind of friend do you want me to be? The one that tolerates you and backs off when you want to close yourself off, or the one that pries and tries and shakes the sense out of you? You tell me you don’t know. You tell me you need both. Then you tell me that you don’t know again.

I asked you, why can’t you just be one kind of person? Why do you make it so difficult? Why do you refuse to let people in? You say that you’re not used to this. You’re not used to someone else other than your family giving a crap about you. Earth to you, that’s what friends are for. I’m sorry that you have major trust issues, and I’m sorry that maybe before, your friends didn’t think you were worth their time, but I’m saying, I keep telling you, that this time around, you have us,  you have me, and it will be different.

And so the night ended with me promising to stick around, whether you liked it or not. I reassured you multiple times that I do give a damn about you, and you can open up to me whenever you want about whatever you want because I will listen and I will care and I will give you advice if you need it. I will sympathize with you and not judge you for your decisions or mistakes. I promise to be your friend, if you would just let me in. Don’t push me away.

Things never go the way we expect to with us. Maybe that’s just me. I’m living the exact same situation, just two years later, from a different point of view. This time around, you’re me, and I’m you know who. Huh.

I realized that this whole friendship isn’t about me. It’s about you. I have to work harder to fix you, to show you it’s okay to trust other people. Why would I bother? I don’t know. Maybe it’s because despite what everybody else says, I think you’re worth keeping around.

Afterwards, we established the fact that our friendship is based on feelings of mutual hate and violence, of how you want to strangle me and how I want to stab you. We say this in jest, but some part of me knows it’s true. We find each other absolutely infuriating sometimes. It’s funny.

Then you told me twice that you’ll miss talking to me. Deep inside, I know you meant to say that you were going to miss me, but we’re off to a good start, and I’ll take what I can get. I returned the sentiment. I said I’ll miss talking to you, too, but I hope you soon realize that we both don’t have to.