by Lynn Kim Do

Dear Ex-Best Friend

Dear Ex-Best Friend,

First off, I still got love for you. But if you think this is a letter to mend a relationship, I can assure you that it is going to be a letter of feelings being thrown against a wall with very little hope of sticking. That is if the wall is a metaphor for hugs-it-out scenarios or a slo-mo drone shot of two happy ass people walking through a luscious park with an endless amount of happy fucking possibilities in front of them. Nope. Not. This. Kind. Of. Letter.

To all my ex-best friends. Yes, even my 6th grade best friend who told me she had a crush on my boyfriend so "you couldn’t possibly be happy for me." And my 8th grade best friend who found cooler girls to be best friends with AND then dated my ex after we broke up. To my best friend who pushed me to the ground one drunk night in New York City in 2014. To my best friend who I stood side by side but as strangers at your dad’s funeral. To my best friend who left me in this world alone to live with whiskey-loving angels way above me.

And to the best friend who was never a friend at all. I gave to you selflessly. I invited you into my circle even when you conveniently begin to claim them as yours. I invited you into the very little family I had so often that even my momma called you her daughter. I built personalized traditions — Christmas, New Years, Tets — even when you so thoughtless rescheduled. Again. And Again. I contributed to our empire even when it costed me. I gave you an immense amount of loyalty even when you were anything but. I gave you honesty even when all you wanted to hear were lies just so you can feel better about your poor decisions. I checked up on you endlessly with “how are you feeling’s” as I talked you off your personal ledges when you kept me on read on my lowest days. When I got pathetic “kk” and self-serving answers that never even made it to “And how are you, Lynn?” I blamed myself, raking through pages and pages of memories trying to figure out what went wrong even when I knew that you ghosted me because our friendship was no longer convenient for your life. I gave you my unshakable promise in-between the term “best friend” even when you took it all for granted.  Yeah, I made it easy for you. Maybe, too easy. And that’s my fault. I gave and I gave while you took with such keen conscious calculations. You took and you made me believe in us when you were always thinking about you. And in the end, you made it hard to be your friend.

Yet, I don’t blame you. In fact, I still love you. Very much. And I guess what I hope you understand is that I love myself way more than I can fucking possibly love you. I love myself too much to endure the one-sided promises aka the bargain I kept and you just took advantage of. I love myself too much to give you my friends, my contacts, my invites, my network, my energy, my sympathy, my time, or even my tears — you selfish convenient-only bitch. And I should’ve ran when you said “I trust no one” because you were only projecting the red flag that glared so clearly to me now. And I love myself way too much to give so generously when my best friend now deserves that and way more. Cause real love isn’t tainted by the crap that you made me endure.

So I hope you’re well. I hope your future is bright. That you found a shitty person who is equally as shitty as you to call a best friend. Because nothing is worse than feeling lonely. And no one deserves that, even you.


Images by Marie Lombardo