Typically, people who write tend to censor themselves. We aren’t allowed to say some stuff, we try not to offend or antagonise people, or, perhaps, we do. Maybe that is exactly what some of us are trying to achieve.
For the purpose of this post, I’m not going to censor myself. We’ll see if that’s a good idea.
Person One – You Call Yourself a Friend?
For five years, I called you my best friend, told you everything, laughed and joked together. I guess that wasn’t worth anything to you, was it?
I don’t have an issue with you leaving – sometimes, people just drift apart – but to not hear anything from you… for you to just block me on facebook, on snapchat, from your life, with no explanation, no goodbye. That hurts.
Maybe it was because we didn’t talk online. That’s fair, I guess. But some of your friends did, and you kicked it back in their face, and now you laugh about it – how can you do that? To be so cruel and thoughtless – is it bad that I’m actually not surprised by any of this.
Except the voicemails. Horrible, bullying voicemails. Not to me, you know I’d ignore them, but then it doesn’t matter who they’re to. You’re telling someone to kill themselves and that is lower than I though possible of someone I used to call ‘friend.’
You don’t care what I think. That’s fine. This is that last I’ll think of you.
Person Two – Online.
You came on too strong. That was the main reason I couldn’t talk to you anymore – I wasn’t interested, I didn’t know what I was doing, I was scared. All those things were still true.
I think there’s a certain expectation of people who like the same stuff – they should be together. That’s certainly what everyone else seemed to think… That can’t be true though. Lots of people like the same stuff but they’re not thrown in together because of it!
You’re going to make someone happy, one day, but they’re going to live closer to you, and have similar political views…
Person Three – The Person I’m Closest to in the Whole Wide World
I miss you. I miss you so goddamn much you have no idea. I miss being an idiot with you, I miss fighting with you, I miss singing with you. You’re doing cool sciency things and I’m… well, doing cool journalist things, but it’s not the same.
I don’t wish you were here though, because then you wouldn’t be doing something you love, in a place you love. I know how much you’ve wanted to get out of Plymouth – you’re somewhere you can be happy and love.
See you when you deign to grace us with your presence!
Person Four – The First Major Death in My Life
I wish I could remember more of my time with you, and that I wasn’t so young when you left.
There are bits and pieces I remember – you loved tea and would drink it white with no sugar which I thought was the weirdest thing ever. You once said, when I hugged you after you came to surprise us at school, that I should always hug mum or dad first, before anyone else.
There are flashes of more, but nothing as solid as that. I miss you more for Mum than anything.
Person Five – I Feel Guilty for Not Liking You, But I Don’t Like You
For the longest time I wasn’t sure why I disliked you. It was probably the stereotype – I was jealous of you, that’s for certain.
You managed things so easily, seeming to have no problems of your own, while I was a rubbish dump of a human being, that I couldn’t help but be jealous of how put together your life was.
There was more to it though; things you said and snide comments rubbed me the wrong way. Little things you did, not deliberately malicious, just thoughtless and a bit selfish, so that you came across as not a nice person.
You’re talented at what you do – you don’t need to trip other over on your way up. We can manage that ourselves, thanks.