31/08/26 - INSOLENT CHILD

I miss my best friend. She's retreated into herself, for months. We've missed our whole summer because she has not contacted me. She used to do this often, leave me alone for a week or two. It used to be unbearable, but by now I am used to it. I've realised that she builds resentment like a brick wall around her. She got nitpicky, mean, insolent. I too felt such insolence over the summer, as I saw the time we could've spent together as wasted, dissolving into a pool of boredom in the hotness of the summer nights.

She used to pick at my ineptitude until it was raw. She'd lie and lie about things she'd experienced; a fake boyfriend, a clandestine meeting so uncharacteristic to her demeanor. I sound like a bitch to say this, but it felt like she made our lives a competition. Without any malice, I want to say that she doesn't invite chaos in the same way I do, she's far too reserved. She never let anyone into her life, never gave away a part of herself without an expectation of reciprocity or safety. And I think she resented me for it. So, she lived in grand delusion, and out of fear of losing her, I played along.

No pictures of her French fling from her summer in Paris. He wrote in her book, but she'd never let me see what he wrote. He's not real. Meanwhile, when evil men sent me messages I'd show her everything. Every picture, every post. She started making fake instagram accounts, creating long, fabricated storylines, convoluted and hard to follow. I got a bit tired, I think. Feigned interest between the real Life Living I was doing (which she refused to be a part of).

But I love her. I love her mind, her strong convictions despite her wobbling sense of self, built upon the material things and media as though her soul is simply a 2-dimensional collage. I love her quiet kindness, how we looked like twins, one with red hair and one with purple. I liked how we wear similarly outlandish clothes, and in public we fit so well together. I liked when we would be lazy laying in her bed with her arm around me as we scrolled on social media, bitched about people, talked about literature, vampires, books and movies. I miss her because I loved having a best friend, and I loved her needing me.

She missed our mitski concert, she hasn't replied to any texts. So, I've given up. I feel angry, even though she is probably fighting internal battles of magnitudes I refuse to comprehend because I have started to heal. I feel abandoned, because all I've wanted in life was to be chosen first. I dreamt of best friends. What I yearned for was a best friend. Someone who considered me their best friend. All throughout secondary school, I’d ask during sleepovers: “Am I your best friend?”
“You’re one of my good friends, yes. I have many close friends.”
“Well, you’re my best friend.”
“Really?”
And I’d turn around in embarrassment and will myself to fall asleep. I’ve since found my people, even though they are a mismatched combination, and I thought I found one in her, but now it feels like a horrible breakup.

Even with J, and how everytime we are alone, I want him to kiss me, and sometimes he does. But sometimes he doesn't. This weekend we were at the carpark, drinking and he invited two of his annoying friends. I'd planned to meet him an hour earlier than everyone else so we had some time together but his exasperating friends pervaded the air between us. A moment alone, ruined. I was crushed. I felt like throwing a tantrum, asking them to leave. But I stayed silent instead. He noticed, but didn't say anything. I told him once, I could have been quiet and small. I could have met you in secluded alleyways. I could have never known your friends. I could have been the kind of ugly, really intense girl that you hung out with, but wished was prettier so you could’ve actually wanted her, Verbatim. And he said, "If I make you feel like this, maybe we should not see each other for a while."

Can't anyone just want me for me? I'm such a child. I don't care! Give me your time. Make me wait all night for you to come home, kneeling on porcelain with my hands behind my back, tear-streaked, because I'll do it. I will suffer for either of you, and it won't feel like suffering to me. Just how devoted do you want me to be?