First off I want to apologise if this bit doesn’t apply to you. This is my second weepy post in as many days, and there may be more to come, but this is my outlet, and if anyone doesn’t like that, then as far as I’m concerned they can leave. I’m writing for myself, not for others, that’s just a nice side effect. This is almost entirely selfish; it’s where I write down all the things I don’t want to say out loud.
I remember meeting you. It was year eight, and it was a case of mutual friends. I didn’t trust you at first; I was too wary of friendship, but it didn’t take long for you to make your way into my heart. That year I had five friends, and you were one of them. In many ways you still are. I remember how much you liked her. Once I had got to know you, I used to tease you mercilessly, when she was just out of earshot. I would have liked things to stay that way. I don’t know why it changed, but it did. The last night of our enrichment trip, you told them that you didn’t want to be friends any more. You didn’t tell me. Instead, I spent all night comforting my friends, without knowing what was wrong. When I found out, it hurt. I had trusted you, and you had repaid me by leaving. The love I had for you turned to hatred. It did for her as well. We told her about how you had liked her, but not until later. Then, we made plans, in case you tried to come back. We would cut you down and make you beg for forgiveness.
That didn’t happen.
Instead, you came back, and you fitted in as though you had never left. They forgave you almost instantly. I took a little longer. For weeks I glared at you, and made sly remarks, and I couldn’t bring myself to forgive you. I don’t even know when it happened. I just know that one day I stopped hating you. It became impossible. You endeared yourself to me again somehow, and I can’t forgive you for that. I welcomed you back in, but I can’t forget the promises you broke, the way you never told me. I can’t forget the trust you threw away.
I don’t trust easily. I never have. Perhaps it has something to do with all of my friend moving house within three years. For me, friendship is gift, an honour, and not to be taken lightly. For me to call you my friend is for me to give you the highest level of trust I can. When you left, I raised my walls again. I stopped giving signs of affection, something I still don’t do. I can’t hug. I can’t trust. Because I trusted you, and you didn’t care.
You’ll never know this, because I’ll never tell you. I can’t risk losing my other friends over you, because I’m not sure who they’d pick if I made them chose. So I tolerate you, and sometimes I come close to forgetting. It never leave, though. There’s always this little voice in the corner of my heart. He’ll leave again. He broke your trust. Maybe if you had only done it once it wouldn’t hurt so much, but the fact remains that you have done it again and again and again. I won’t list all of those times, because I don’t particularly want to remember. I wouldn’t even be writing this if it wasn’t for what you said earlier.
“I won’t hug Morgan, because she hates me.”
I don’t hate you. I don’t think I could. I just don’t trust you.