Why am I doing this?

Shit happens. To everybody. No matter how well it all seems, there is some shit happening somewhere, so don't get fooled. Someone might look like they're having the time of their lives, but they might be feeling miserable.

Yes, I'm talking about myself but no, I'm not feeling miserable. This was an exaggeration. But a couple of days ago I heard someone telling me how great my life looks, based on what they see me post on social media. I told them that there are downsides to it, like everybody else, and he ironised me saying that I don't post the bad stuff. Well, people don't want to see the bad stuff. People don't want to hear how sad your life is, unless there's something for them - like a happy ending. And not the sexual one.

Even though it doesn't seem like, I have insecurities. I feel alone sometimes. There are things I don't like about my job. My life is not perfect. That guy, the one in the pictures, he's a character. An alter ego. He's entertainment, based on a real story. But he's not me. Not entirely.

And this is how I cope. Some people drink, some people smoke, some people like to shoot things, some people bully others, some people cry. I write. After years of therapy, I learned how to talk to myself. I learned how to organise my ideas on a piece of paper (nowadays a digital one), in order to put everything out of me. This is how I vent.

I write letters, sometimes to myself, sometimes to others. I don't have real intentions of sending them, because this is something that I need to go through for me. I don't do this to change someone else. I don't want to tell them how to live their lives, because honestly, I'm still learning how to live mine.

So why make them public? Why give people a chance to see them? It's a clever solution, actually: I will live in a permanent state of duality, where my letters will and will not be read by whoever they are intented to. I will have the peace of mind that my message could be received, but it was not necessarily received. It's there, to be found. And just like everything else, this is about me, and how I am doing my part. If someone else will find them or not, it's not on me anymore. I don't and won't have that control. After all, I can only control what I say and how I say it, but not how it will be received and how someome else will interpret it. My job will be done.

I don't have any intention of offending anybody, so if you feel like this is for you and it is bothering you, please reconsider. This is about how I see things, not the truth. This is my truth, for my closure. And if you ever want to get it sorted, please let's talk about it. Let's work things out. If you're here, it's because you did or you still matter to me. And that must mean something. 

Hi G.

I hope you are well. I am not.

I am sure further down the road I will look at this piece I am writing right now and ponder if I should have waited a bit to write you this letter. I probably should. But after having you around, somehow I got less rational and more emotional. Funny how a pattern is a pattern for a reason: I usually pick up something from each friend I have. Sometimes it is an accent, sometimes it is a personality trait. From you, I got the emotional side of me. But even funnier is how that came from you, and not other people who are physically closer to me. In that sense and keeping up with the whole idea of me writing to catch the heat of the moment, here we go.

A couple of hours ago you told me to move on. I had a feeling things were heading in this direction, but deep down I still wanted to believe I was wrong. That my gut was wrong. It was not. I am moving on, I think. It's just hard, because I like you and I miss you. We had the weirdest friendship, where we actually only met each other once in person, and we were not even alone. Goes to show that a connection can be achieved in any situation, and no problem is big enough to be unsolvable. I will look at internet stories differently from now on, and this is another thing I will always owe to you.

I am sorry for being me. I can apologize for several things and, like I told you, some of them I know, some of them I don't. But ultimately I want to apologize for being myself, and for that not being good enough. I promise I am not making drama, I am just trying to look at the facts. When two people have a fall out, sometimes one, sometimes both of them feel like the other is not good enough for them. That does not mean I am not good enough, but for you I am not. Maybe I am not anymore. I wish I knew what triggered that, so I could try to work on it and be a better person. But it's your right to decide if you explain me things or not.

Usually people say things like "you don't owe me any explanation", but as you know me enough, I am honest and honestly, I think you do. We have a massive history and I feel like this is being disregarded by you right now. I probably cannot see the bigger picture here, because you are holding lots of the puzzle pieces. But I still feel like I deserved more. I deserved an explanation. No matter how bad I might have been, I also have been good. And in the final weighing of things, I think the good parts are bigger.

But also, you promised me something. You promised me that you would never go away without an explanation, you promised me you wouldn't disappear and let me wondering. You knew how much this can wake up my insecurities, make me second guess myself, and ultimately hurt me, but you did it anyway. You probably have your reasons, but nevertheless here I am, hurt. Funny again: it is not the first time I tell you this.

I will move on. Partially because I have to, partially because I am not sure we can mend our friendship, but also because I think that things could have been handled better. I admit my part on things: you asked for space, I should have given you. I should not have acted spoiled and annoyed that you did not answer me. I had my reasons for doing it, but that does not justify it. Rationally, I should have kept myself away. Emotionally, I was not able to. Probably because I am learning how to deal with it as I go.

You could have done better as well, but I am not writing you to teach you how to behave. I am not even sure why I am writing you. Possibly to give me what you should have given: a reason, an understanding. Closure.

This will hurt for some time, but I don't want it to be the final image I have from you. I will work towards remembering the good stuff about our friendship. My goal is to think about you and instantly taste smoked maple pecan fudge. To remember how you said good night to me every time I see a hawk. To laugh about your disgust when I have a cup of decaf coffee...

So thank you. Thank you for having passed through my life, thank you for having been there in green chat bubbles, thank you for being my friend. From the bottom of my new found alive heart, thank you. It really meant a lot.