Dear Simone

Dear Simone,

I’ve been avoiding this one.

I won’t say he wasn’t there for me because he was. Just not how I would’ve liked or how I showed up for him.

It was a pretty complicated relationship. Maybe I just didn’t tell you the details. Or maybe you were right, and it WAS toxic.

I think we both found each other when we needed it but we both needed more growth. I had to leave him behind because he wasn’t willing to grow anymore.

We would drive around and smoke and talk for hours. But only until his boyfriend was available. We’d go out to eat and have dates and go dancing. He showed me to be free. In a social setting. We would talk for hours before bed, after work, during work. It was the time I looked forward to the most. Until he betrayed me then set me aside.

He gave me the reassurance I never had. We had the best times. Funny moments. He had an interesting sense of humor. But he was just as traumatized as me. In a different way. And he was a liar. And he cared too much about appearance and his image to others.

There was so much world out there and he reminded me of it.

We even ha dates with JN. New restaurants, mall, celebrations, park, ice cream etc. It was fun. It was nice. He liked spending time with her, I thought. He was a great listener and was able to understand her better than I could. He called me his sister, I called him, her brother. When they got together, no one else existed. I was there to pay and drive.

Three years I was friends with him. And I guess three years meant nothing since DR was friends with him for seven. But she never defended him or had his best intentions in mind. DR gaslit him and traumatized him even more. I wanted to heal him. He just wanted somebody. Towards the end before I left, he said I was his sister, and I wasn’t going to get rid of him. After three months of ignored calls, he was done. I put up with his shenanigans for three years. He saw me cry and he saw me at my lowest. He checked on me and took me to the gym. But he never wanted to have the hard conversations. So, I left. And I deleted him. And I asked my ancestors to make it to where he and Osvaldo never enjoy their time out or when travelling. Call it petty, but I would rather that then causing harm.

I love him, I miss him, he was my best friend and he chose everyone but me. Like everyone else. And maybe that’s why I kept him for so long. But I was genuine and true and honest. And I cry about it still. Because I was tossed aside and I carry the pain close to me.

He saw me in a different light and I appreciated that about him. He never understood why people called me stuck up or rude. He didn’t understand why people didn’t like me. I didn’t either. I’ve been asking myself that for years.

When we moved out of his dad’s place and got his own apartment, I was so happy for him. We even had a weekly dinner called “Humble Beginnings” because there was nothing humble about us. No matter how much we tried ! lol That was the joke. We were kind of opposites, kind of the same. He wore designer clothes and cologne and had very expensive mirrors and glass desks and marble tables but cheap bed, cheap table. The apartment was expensive and his car was paid off. He loved to travel and drink sparkling water and eat bland food, or organic. I wanted soda and all the fat. That’s where I got it from. The sparkling waters. Now that’s all I drink with an occasionalcherry coke or pepsi at a restaurant. We didn’t always have money but we supported eachother and gave when we could. IT was all love. I wanted to do so much to pay him back for what he meant to me. What he helped me with. How he saved me. Saw me. I got him presents when I could and celebrated everything he wanted. I always made sure everything was about him. I sacrificed my time, energy and job for him. I always wondered when it would be my turn. I don’t know if I was selfish or if I just didn’t see it, but when I cried and begged him for an answer. All I got was silence. That broke my heart.

He was supposed to be my friend but he liked to trigger me and test me. He was supposed to believe me. I wouldn’t lie to him about serious things. I guess he lied a lot and thought I did too. I don’t think he was ready for a friend like me.

When I got through things with JN, I wish he was around. He’d know what to say or how I could better phrase things to her. He would talk to her too, so she would feel supported. He knows more about how little girls think than I do. I think if he hadn’t been one of the many males that have left our lives, she would have been fine. Sometimes all we need is a person. Just one, to care.

Today I saw pictures of an old coworker and I’d normally send him the pictures, and he’d call right away to talk more in depth about what we already spent our whole workday talking about, to continue in messages and voice messages and memes and never-ending jokes. But I didn’t send them. And he didn’t message. And we don’t talk. And I wish we did…