Open Letter Fridays: To my Ex Best Friend

Picture credits: Pinterest

Dear Ex Best Friend,

If you’re reading this, you know who you are.

Some people forget people like you. They just brush it off and say, “Eh… they’re not worth it.” Others just think of it as just another bad relationship they’ve had. But not me. For the six years that you’d been my best friend, ending it was probably the hardest thing that I’ve ever done in my life. My world shattered.

We weren’t those typical best friends who lived next door and had sleep overs and went home after two days and our mothers not even batting their eyes. No. We were the kind that shared our souls; the kind that our families knew us so well that they wouldn’t question us as to what we were doing all day; the kind that cleaned each other’s rooms; the kind that made jokes all day and never get bored; the kind that inspired each other; the kind that craved for the day off spend time away from our uniforms; the kind that teased each other when their crushes pass by; the kind that never sat in the same bench but still could talk with just glances.

Or so I thought.

It seems to me that only I thought that way. If that was true all along, why did you not tell me? I thought you were my best friend. I handled the fact that you liked to be with others more than me,  so why did you think that I could not handle the fact that you weren’t actually my best friend, but a plethora of others?

This hurt me the most.

Your absolute belief that I was weak.

I cannot escape from you. Every advertisement, every movie, every Indian show has decided that your name is the best name in the whole wide world. Little do they care about this small soul screaming in silently in pain.

So today, I ask you, do you ever think about me? Were you ever sorry about how much you hurt me? Were you even aware? And if we were “best friends”, why couldn’t you tell me truth, to my face and not behind my back to someone I didn’t even know exists?



2 thoughts on “Open Letter Fridays: To my Ex Best Friend

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