I don’t know if you miss me, but I miss you. I wish we could eat frozen pizza and read web comics and watch “Girls” together, but we can’t. I’ve spent the last few weeks trying to sort out just why it is that the very idea of calling you makes my heart race and my mood deteriorate. Here’s what I have so far:
1. You make me sad.
2. You’ve made me feel insignificant time and time again – through your patronizing compliments, dead stare, innumerable references to exes, and various other words meant to keep me at arm’s length. I don’t trust you not to hurt me in this way again and again and again.
3. Seeing you with someone else would kill me. How can we be friends if I can’t be happy for you?
4. For reasons I can’t explain (I don’t feel like I ought to be angry, when you have done nothing explicitly wrong), I want to injure you. Although I might manage to refrain from moving my fist through the perpendicular plate of your ethmoid, I don’t trust myself not to say cruel words out of spite and ruin any chance of future friendship we might have.
5. Your companionship requires a great deal of time, emotional energy, and martyrdom. It wasn’t healthy for me before and it sure isn’t going to be healthy now. I have an out. I don’t have to give up any more of myself.