No More Secrets

Dear ex-best friend,

Looking back at how things ended between us, it’s clear it wasn’t pretty. I never thought I’d find myself in a situation where I couldn’t trust you, or anyone else for that matter, and I’m sure you faced consequences I couldn’t even imagine. First off, I want to apologize for any trouble my actions may have caused you. I genuinely had no idea about the suspension until I was informed by someone else. But apologies alone don’t right the wrongs. We both made mistakes here. While I won’t label our entire friendship a mistake, my own naivety and trustfulness definitely played a part in the mess we found ourselves in. Yet, it’s not solely my fault. You should never have spoken about me behind my back. It took me ages to build up the confidence to tune out the negativity around me, and it felt like you knocked me off my Everest of self-assurance. That’s how much it hurt. I know telling you this won’t change much, but I need to get it off my chest for closure.

You offered to be there for me when my other friends weren’t, and I trusted you wholeheartedly. But it stung to realize you didn’t trust me enough in return to confide in me. And barely two weeks into our friendship, you were already gossiping about me behind my back. You even admitted to me how you discussed me with your other friends. I’m not some tool you can manipulate. I’m a real person with real feelings. But you treated me as disposable. I can still recall how you’d constantly ask me for things, like confirming answers for school assignments before turning them in because you knew I’d gotten mine back already. It was a constant cycle of using me. Do you understand how much it hurts? Knowing that someone pretended to be my friend just to gather gossip, talk behind my back, and exploit me academically for their own gain. It sucks.

Despite all this, I never once spoke ill of you, not even to my closest friends, nor did I use you for academic gain. But what I really want to know is why? Why did you treat me this way? Why did you tear me down? Sure, I may have been a bit clingy at times, but I’d rather be clingy than ignored and left on read repeatedly. It happened far too often, and I can’t believe I kept forgiving you for it. “Sorry, I was busy. I was chatting with my friends while playing Among Us and eating a whole bunch of food.” It wasn’t fair. I considered you a friend, and even though our friendship is now nonexistent, you deserve to know the truth. I can’t keep holding onto these feelings; it’s detrimental to my mental well-being. You were like a brother to me, and it feels like you tore my heart out of my chest and trampled on it. If you happen to read this, know that this is how I feel.

From (because you don’t deserve a sincerely),

G

Back in 7th grade, fate decided we’d be locker neighbors. Little did I know that simple twist of luck would kickstart a rollercoaster friendship. At first, we bonded over the mundane—sharing locker space and school horror stories. It felt like we could talk about anything, and for a while, I thought we did. Looking back though, I realize it was mostly me doing the talking and him pretending to listen, offering occasional nods or chuckles in response to my rants.

One day, fueled by frustration and in rant mode, I let loose a string of curses over the phone. “She’s a fing b*!” I screamed out, panting with anger and guilt as soon as the words escaped my lips. His reaction caught me off guard—a burst of laughter on the other end of the line. It was the first time I’d cursed EVER, and I felt a pang of regret mixed with relief. But instead of toning down the language, it seemed to escalate for a while, becoming almost a habit.

The next day at school, another curse slipped out. This time, it was his friend who reacted, wide-eyed and shocked. I couldn’t fathom why it was such a big deal; after all, I was known for being caring and helpful. But perhaps that’s precisely why it was so surprising. Fortunately, the cursing phase didn’t last long, tapering off after about a week. Looking back at it now, he influenced this phase quite heavily, teaching me swear words and other things that little thirteen and fourteen year old kids should probably not know.

Moving past the cursing debacle, our friendship continued in its very unpredictable trajectory. We found ourselves chuckling in heated arguments over trivial matters, alternating between painful banter and playful disagreements. It was the kind of back-and-forth that could be both maddening and amusing, leaving us shaking our heads in disbelief at our own absurdity.

Then came the ill-fated decision—a moment of impulsive madness that would alter the course of our friendship. In a misguided attempt to untangle the complexities of our relationship, I scribbled a note confessing my feelings and slipped it into his locker. It was a cringe-worthy move, looking back, but at the time, I was convinced it was the right thing to do. The response was not what I hoped for— a strange but polite rejection call followed by an awkward agreement to remain friends. This still doesn’t make any sense to me because rumor has it that he had feelings for me.

Despite our efforts to salvage the friendship, cracks began to form, widening with each passing day. I was too caught up in my own struggles to notice the growing distance between us, too preoccupied with my own insecurities to see the warning signs. By the time quarantine hit, our friendship had become a shadow of its former self—a fragile bond teetering on the brink of collapse.

Throughout 8th grade, our interactions became increasingly sporadic, reduced to thirty second exchanges when we needed something from each other. We were both too busy to keep up the friendship, kind of idiotic when you think about it. If the friendship is worth it, you’ll make the effort. Quarantine offered a brief window, a chance to reconnect amidst the chaos of isolation. But even then, it was clear that things would never be the same.

As we entered 9th grade, the distance between us grew ever wider, exacerbated by the challenges of remote learning and social isolation. I found myself longing for the companionship we once shared, yearning for the ease and familiarity of our past friendship. But it was no use—the damage had been done, irreparable fissures running deep beneath the surface. We fought about everything, from whether pancakes or waffles are better to our one-sided friendship. He never admitted it, but we all knew it was just. Him. Using. Me.

He would tell me about how he told his friends that I’m ugly and depressed. How no one at school liked me and all these awful rumors. He made me dependent on him, craving his presence, our conversations, and validation.

Looking back on those years, I can’t help but wonder what might have been. What if I hadn’t slipped that note into his locker? What if I’d been more willing to listen instead of talk, pushing him to open up? What if I’d shut down the friendship when I realized it wasn’t working? But regrets are a luxury I can unfortunately not afford, a burden best left in the past.

Despite the pain and heartache, I am grateful for the lessons learned—the value of communication, the importance of trust, and the fragility of friendship. For better or for worse, he will always hold a place in my now semi-frozen heart—a reminder of a friendship that once was, a testament to the bonds that shape us, and the remembrance of trust and loyalty.