Dear you, I have discovered the recipe for true friendship.
Three liters of laughs, a pound of powdered summers, a teaspoon of telling secrets. A pinch of jealousy and a teaspoon of trouble. A cup of fights. An ever-adjustable amount of smiles.
Mixing instructions; there are six subsections.
1. You bake cookies with her – though only half the amount you meant to cause you ate all that batter
2. There’s no such thing as bailing each other out hell, it’s every man for himself unless of course you broke that window together in which case you share the holding cell and tell each other “shit, we screwed up. But that was awesome.”
3. You love her and hate her at the same time because the two of you are so similar it’s like being friends with yourself but without the flaws. She’s good at everything you’re bad at except for bowling. You both suck at that.
4. She laughs when you tell her stupid trig jokes about how the guy in your history class is tangent because he chose the girl opposite him over the girl adjacent to him and you don’t feel like a geek cause it’s a good type of laughter.
5. You tease each other about the guys you like; the tall the sweet and the nerdy or the girls if that’s how you roll
6. She’s so perfect its infuriating so half the time you want to kill her, another quarter maim her and that last bit? You want to be with her every second because she brings out the best in you and you like the way you around her and how she makes you feel.
Bake for 4 years at 50 degrees.
So now I have to ask you why you don’t follow this recipe, why you’re not that perfect blend of light and dark. Because I never want to tell you anything, cause who knows what you’ll do? Or what you’ll say? I can feel the absence of every one of my closely guarded secrets when I watch them make their way from my mouth to your ears but you don’t even notice the extra weight.
Friends are supposed to accept and forget but obviously your mental dictionary is different than mine because last time I checked “accept” doesn’t mean “degrade” or “point out every flaw you see” and “forget” definitely doesn’t mean “regularly bring up the time I made you cry for the first time in years” especially because the only reason you cried was because I stood up for myself and you didn’t like it.
Nothing is safe around you, not my beliefs, my reservations, the way I view the world. Everything is subject to ridicule when you’re around. From what I’ve heard, friendship is supposed to make you happy but unless happiness is the sinking, hollow feeling I get in my stomach whenever I see you this is not friendship.
Cause there is a difference between being truthful and being honest even though the words mean the same thing. I know you mean the things you say about me even though you end each volley of insults with “I’m just kidding, you know,” Some of the things I don’t deny but you don’t need to say anything. In the end, there’s just no reason for you to talk.
People tell me I need to ignore the poisonous snakes that slither coolly from your mouth but it’s too late for that because they’ve bitten me, and the gaping holes in my heart are in plain view of everyone but the girl who put them there. Blind snakes are the worst and that’s what you are because you don’t see how anything you do could possibly be wrong. I don’t know how you managed to slide your way into my life nor do I know how to get rid of you because I sure as hell don’t want to sic you on somebody else.
I don’t know what I did to deserve this, who I pissed off in a past life but I promise I’ll never do it again. I just want my own opinions back, along with my self-confidence, my good judgment and the sense of purpose that used to dominate my life. Because when you befriended me I lost all of those things to that locked box you call a heart.
Here. You might want to try this recipe.