… about what happened between us. I don’t know why I ever thought we were so close, or such good friends. … Maybe we were. Or maybe it was just that we liked the same things. Maybe I just wanted to earn your approval more than anything. Maybe I saw you as a mentor. You were older, wiser, more beautiful, and knew everything that I wanted to. I wanted to be like you.
Whenever you smiled at me, praised me, or said even the smallest kind thing, I was glowing. Yet, more often I found that you were displeased with me. Don’t show the world how I feel, you said. I told you I didn’t work that way, but you thought me foolish. Didn’t you? Even today, I struggle with those memories.
Each time I pick up an anime, think of learning Japanese, rewatch Death Note — the one series I told you was the best, and you always complained that I wouldn’t stop talking about — I think of you, and flinch. I lash out at people when they ask me about anime. Shirk away from those that identify as “otaku” for fear that I, too, will be labeled as such. Now, I worry all the time.
Yet I cared about you. And I am not innocent in the matter. I have hurt you, I know. I dragged you down with my own feelings, and did something unforgivable. You gave me a chance. You trusted me. I let you down. And now… are we even friends? Have we ever been?
I never got a chance to say goodbye. Rather, I never gave you that chance. I miss you sometimes — a lot these days. I remember how much pain you were in. How you were struggling with your health and recent heartbreak. I hope that you’re doing all right, and hope that what happened was really best for your health, though I know you’d be happier living somewhere else.
If you see this: I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you. As it happens, so often, I’m sorry. I should have told you what was bothering me. I should have compromised. I should have known that what I was putting you through was hard. Just when we thought things were going to be okay, I messed it all up. And despite whatever happened in highschool or however you made me feel about anything, I should never have done that.
I just wish that it had been different. I don’t regret coming back here and going to school again. I think it was the best choice for me. However, I do sincerely regret the way that I did it. I wish that we could start over. As equals. I wish that one day I could be somehow worthy in your eyes. I don’t think that will ever happen.
My insecurities are not your fault. I suppose they’re not mine, either. What is my fault is the fact that I was unable to control them long enough to communicate with you and help you understand how I was feeling. I felt that I could never be good enough to be your friend. I felt lost. I wanted to stay with you. But I thought that no matter what, I would continue to disappoint you. Be a burden on you. And I miss you so much that it hurts.
It’s been almost a year now.
Why did I fuck it all up?
I will always be a failure.
