Lamenting a Friendship Lost

Heart Cake

Dear C.D. –
I hope this letter finds you and yours well. I’m glad you recently “found” me on FaceBook so that I can be privy to a limited aspect of your life, which is better than no aspect at all. You seem to be very happy, and seem to have a great support group of great friends and family. I cannot begin to express how happy I am for you having that in your life as I was not able to continue to be that support for you.
I know when we met in Middle School we had our differences – and we often we played off one another by the Third Musketeer in our group. But, as you know, by 8th grade we were inseparable – we were a solid unit and nothing could get in our way of our dreams. Or so we thought…
I’m not sure how much of the real story you know or how much you have learned from rumors – but even the rumors are probably true. I wanted to take this time to simply explain to you how I single-handedly destroyed the best friendship I had and have ever had in my entire life. To spare you the gruesome details, I will just cover the basics – which is, the substances I lied to you about taking from the beginning quickly took over my mind, body and soul, and I became a slave to the chemical almost immediately. I wanted that constant high, and I chased it every chance I possibly could. Remember rehearsals for “Up the Down Staircase”? I was very spun-out. Remember how we started fighting over nothing? That was because I was coming down and I couldn’t admit to you what I was going through physically and mentally. Remember when you came to me and cried, asking me why I didn’t want to hang out with you on weekends and that you didn’t like my new “friends” because they were “weird” and “too old to be hanging around high schoolers”? Well, you were right. And they weren’t my friends – although I made a habit of calling all my drug dealers friends. Remember when I tried justifying to you my senior year that I was perfectly fine because I was maintaining a 4.0 grade point average? You got angry and said I must have only weighed 90-pounds, which – you pointed out – was not healthy…I told you it was the stress that being a High-Honors student and your nagging was putting on me. And then you collaged a card for me with EVERY inside-joke, which you had laminated for longevity and tear-proofing. I still have it. I have very few things from my toxic days, but I still have that. I found it recently while I was packing to move – I started crying.
We haven’t talked in the eight years since you handed me that card and officially said good-bye to the person I had become, mourned a sister you had lost, and moved on to better people in your life. As I know you have heard, I’ve been sober now for four years, and though it’s been a rough road, it has been a great one. I would never take back my experiences because I wouldn’t be the hyper-aware and very thankful person that I am today, but that doesn’t mean that there isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t think of relationships lost by my actions alone. I think one of the hardest things about getting sober was realizing who was really a friend and who just used me for substances or to party with. In the throes of dire loneliness and despair during this time, your warmth would cross my mind and I would hug myself in anger and self pity about pushing the truest person I knew from my life. I know today we are two completely different people – and who knows, perhaps one day we will meet again on a more “real” level than FaceBook – but I’m also OK with just knowing that you know I am sorry and that I am so truly happy for and proud of you!
C. D., you truly are a magnificent person, and I am honored to know you and say that at one point in our lives we shared a very strong bond. May your life bring all the love and happiness it deserves, and may your dreams carry-on unto waking.

Love Always,

Shelby.

Prosthetic

"If I only had one arm or one leg when we met, would you have still asked me out?"
"No."
"What!? Why not!?"
"Because I would have thought it a little weird."
"But I'm the same person. I'm still smart, and pretty and funny....I just would be missing an extremity."
"It's weird."
"You're shallow!"
"What if the tables were turned?"
"Why, of course I would. I love you!"
"You love me NOW. What if I didn't have an arm?"
"Of course I would. I still think you'd be sexy without an arm."
*Astonished stare*
"Seriously!"
"Well, then you are a better person than I."
"Are you kidding me!? What if I got in a car accident tomorrow and they had to amputate my leg?"
"Well, yeah I would still be with you because I'm with you now and I love you. I met you when you were still normal."
"That's stupid."
"I'd be there for you during the trauma..."
"And then leave me down the road for a woman with two legs."
"No."
"Then why wouldn't you have dated me in the first place?"
"Because it would have been weird."
"So, by that logic: if I had been a drug addict when you met me, you wouldn't have dated me, but if I became one tomorrow you would stick by my side?"
"Are you going to share?"
"Who ARE you!?"
"Why are we arguing about this!?"
"Because I wanted to know your answer. I wanted to get to know you more."
"Need I remind you the length of our relationship and our current living situation?"
"No - I know these things. I just don't know YOU, evidently."
"Oh geez...You are one twisted broad."
"You are one shallow ass."

*Silent stand-off ensues*

"What if I had one arm and a bitchin' prosthetic with a hook!?"
"Drop it!"