An open letter to my ex best friend

You decided we weren't friends anymore without ever telling me. I asked if something was wrong, and you said no every time. But a new distance was there, and I didn't know why. You stopped speaking to me immediately after graduation, and I moved away for college three months later.

We've talked once since then, briefly. Your mom still likes my posts on Instagram. I stopped following you on Twitter. I don't even know if you have an account anymore.

My new best friend (of the last three and a half years, actually) reminds me of you sometimes, but not in the ways you might expect. Like when she shows me a song and I add it to a playlist, I think of you. You would have been mad. You shared on your terms, and I wasn't allowed to enjoy "your" things without you. She gets excited and sends me new suggestions whenever something makes her think of me.

I've picked up favorite songs and poets from her, and she's found new bands and cartoons through me. Whatever we love individually, we share with one another as enthusiastically as you would be mad.

The way that I treat my friends hasn't changed since you were one of them. They don't pay for their concert tickets when we go to shows. I offer my place as a safety net when any of my friends don't want to go home. I set aside my own struggles to listen and comfort, and I pick up random gifts when I'm out shopping and see something that makes me think of them. I don't think much of it, as you know I never have.

What I get back is different, though. My friends will show up for me if I need them. They listen when I'm upset or passionate about something. They encourage my goals and reassure me against my anxieties. They invite me to do things and genuinely express that they want me around. We rarely argue.

See, you don't know who I am anymore. I am not the anxious, yet loud girl who was falling apart at the seams. While, yes, I am still obsessive over books and my writing, I am also outspoken and confident. I am a well-known leader in several capacities at my university, and I am resilient. I go to drag shows and bars. I take medication for my depression, and I walk at night to cope with the world. One day, I'm going to move to New York City. If you think of me at all, the picture you have is likely outdated and off.

I'm glad to have had that experience with you because it makes me appreciate where I am with my close friends now. I didn't realize how one-sided our friendship was until I met people who returned the energy I give them.

Now, I would never be friends with someone like you. I would not allow myself to be treated like a bother the way I felt I was when you were around. I learned to value myself and the good friendships I've built where I am now, and I don't know if I would have made those connections without feeling alone in a group of former friends all those years ago.

I still hope you're doing well. I hope you have friends who are there for you the way I was and that your life got easier after your mom left your step-dad. I hope you don't have as many upset nights wishing your father was in your life still and that you have someone to run to when you do. I'm glad it isn't me anymore, though.