I wish that time you heard me throwing up and I said I was just wasn't feeling well, you didn't pretend to not know the truth. Maybe I would have only had an eating disorder for one year, instead of four, if only you'd confronted me about it.
I cheated on you while you were serving our country in Okinawa. When I broke up with you, I didn't tell you... because you were already so broken, I knew it would completely destroy you. Incidentally, it is part of the reason I have served alcohol to any military personnel who came to my bar, regardless of age. It was my pathetic little way of righting the wrong I did to you.
I use you as an example of a time when I "had" to give up on a friend because there was just no getting through to her, and I couldn't watch it anymore. In truth, I still feel incredibly guilty for giving up on you, no matter what the situation was.
Thank you for accepting my lame ass excuse that I was getting birth control behind your back from Planned Parenthood at 16 because "it helped my period." It was the wiser (and kinder) thing for you to do.
I know you judge me for my number.
I let you move halfway across the country with me, even though I knew that I didn't want to be with you anymore, because I was 19 and terrified of being completely on my own. Years later and still a friend, I think you are an amazing person for not hating me for it.
I found the letter you wrote Dad that ended with, "Something has to change." I always wonder how close you were to getting divorced.
We all know he's not the right guy for you. And so, I believe, do you.
I know you don't approve, but I don't regret all the drugs I did. I still get a tingle at the base of my spine when I think about some of them. I don't want them anymore… but I don't regret it either.
As much as it sucked going through what we did, I am really glad that I now know these three things: 1) How much you actually love me, 2) That I do have the strength to leave, and 3) That I won't ever need to use it. We are stronger and better for what happened.
I was completely lost in North Carolina until I met you. I probably would have given up and moved back home if it wasn't for you. I miss you. I miss being surrounded by the gay and fabulous in general.
Part of me wants to choose a life of financial security and FREEDOM rather than giving you grandchildren... but at the same time, after everything you've done for me, I don't feel I have the right to deny you that. Or rather, that I couldn’t live with myself if I did.
I love you so much, for years after I moved out of our bunkbeds into my own room, I would have dreams that something had happened to you and have to run into your room to make sure you were there, and that you were okay.
I am so completely, unbelievably glad that I found you here in DC. A girl ain't nothing without some real bestie girlfriends by her side.
You keep saying you feel horrible about yourself... you keep saying you want to lose weight. I SEE how unhappy you are in the dressing room of the department store, and it kills me. But you don't DO anything about it, even when I hold your hands and cry and tell you I want to know that you will be at my daughter's wedding someday. I don't know what else to do to inspire you.
I know, unquestioningly, that we will still be friends when we're 80, even if you stay in the South and I in the North forever.
I never believed it would be possible for me... but when I look at you, I truly see the rest of our lives... and for the first and only time in my life, that excites me instead of scares me.