Wednesday, February 22, 2017//12:21 am

You criticized my art. No,  no. Not critiqued. Criticized. As if my art was unimportant. Insignificant. As if my voice didn’t deserve to be heard.

You expected me to sit by submissively as you told me my dreams were unachievable. You expected me to agree, as I always did. To nod my head and look away quietly. Giving my consent to tear down my hopes. Giving my consent to enforce my anxieties and fears.

No one should be told that what they want is wrong. But, no, that didn’t stop you from pushing me down. From doing so to people like me, who scream through pen on paper, through paint on canvas. Who bleed ink through the wounds you make. Who cry for art.

Art isn’t unimportant. Written words aren’t silent. And, you aren’t forever.

If only I had realized that before you let the doubt in.


To My Best Friend,

It’s a slow, drawn out, and painful process; losing a friend. When your person finds someone that is more important to them. It almost makes me regret getting so close. If I had known, I would have built myself a wall.

Maybe I’m too sensitive. Maybe I’m too invested. But, God, that knowledge doesn’t make it hurt any less. I feel the physical ache at the distance she is creating. The unanswered messages. The cancelled plans. What’s worse is the cancellation of unmade plans. The holding out for something better to come up. For something with him. Plunge.

“Oh, I don’t know, I’ll see what we might be doing that day.” Twist.

It’s jealousy, I suppose. My green little friend. But I can’t help but feel it when she lets him impose on our plans.

And I feel so stupid for clinging so desperately to the future we planned together during high school. I get unreasonably sad when I think about our futures now because I know they’re leading in different directions. Which absolutely breaks my heart. I don’t blame you. I don’t blame him. I blame growing up. Because, in the grand scheme of things, where does “high school best friend” fit in?

I don’t want to be the only one trying in a friendship you feel should have ended with high school. I have more pride than that. Plus, lately, it doesn’t seem like you’d notice if I left.