I knew something was wrong with us long before the truth came out.  My gut has never been wrong before, and it certainly didn’t fail me with you.  I wanted it to be wrong.  I wanted to think that we were just going through a rough patch and things would smooth out it we talked it over…obviously that didn’t happen, or I wouldn’t be writing this letter.

It was right around this time of year, close to Christmas.  I was home from school on break and you had about ten days off to spend with family and such.

Before I go on…I think there is something that needs to be said.  Something about me that ended up affecting us.

I was severely depressed around the time that things fell apart.  You were aware, because you’d helped me through a similar depression the year before.  I was lost and helpless and scared shitless that I wasn’t going to be able to come back from this one…I clung to you because I wanted you to make it better.

The year before, my freshman year in college, I went through a mild depression and you were my knight in shining armor through the whole thing.  You would always listen to me when I needed to talk, and there has never been a person that’s been able to get my down from my panic attacks like you.

I used to call you, hysterical, unable to breath, scared…and you would find some way to make me laugh through the tears.  You used to tell me the most ridiculous stories; stories about dancing dogs and singing ducks.  I felt like such a little kid, but it was OK because you let it be OK.  I would cling to that telephone and wish it were you, wish your voice weren’t thousands of miles away.

I got help (with a little gentle pushing from you) and I thought that I’d dealt with what was wrong.  But, as we both know, the next year when Winter started my depression came back stronger than ever.

I hate to admit this, especially because it makes me feel weak, but I’d wanted to kill myself.  I was so ashamed and felt so incredibly worthless that I couldn’t imagine anyone putting up that much of a fuss if I were gone.  That’s how low I’d become.

And this time…you weren’t there to pick me back up.

I knew something was wrong when you stopped listening and avoided talking.  My best friend was slipping away from me.  You weren’t my Moose anymore.

Back in October, we’d decided to stop any “benefits” and work on just being friends.  I only agreed because I couldn’t get you to say that you wanted to be with me again.  I was at the point where I needed us to move in a direction.  I couldn’t stand being the person you came to for sex…I wanted more.  I got a hell of a lot less.

Home on break, I kept begging you to spend time with me so we could talk.  I needed my Moose; I needed someone to vent to about all of these feelings that were building inside of me.  You would make a half-assed effort to hang out, but you weren’t really there.  Your head was always somewhere else.  And your damned cell phone wouldn’t stop going off.  That should’ve been my first clue.

I was stupid enough to think that because you were with me (in the sense that you and I were in the same room) that you couldn’t possibly be with someone else.  I believed you when you said she was “just a friend” and I refused to listen to my gut.  That was dumb on my part.

I remember the last night you and I ever physically touched.  It was two days before Christmas and we’d just come back from being out with friends.  You always used to walk me to my car and give me a hug goodbye, but tonight you were halfway down the driveway before I stopped you and made you come back up to me.  I started crying and you put your arms around me in a hug.

I kept telling you that I knew something was going on, that I knew you’d been lying.  Believe me, I’ve lived with my mother long enough to know when something’s being hidden from me.  So I told you to tell me.  I told you “It doesn’t matter what you have to say to me, even if it’s to tell me to fuck off.  I’d rather you be honest than hide things.”

And you stood there, with your arms around my shoulders and your head tilted up towards the stars.  You wouldn’t look at me, your jaw was clenched, and you stayed silent.  I gave you so many chances to open up to me and make it right.  But you stayed silent.

I found out the next night (Christmas Eve, of all nights) that you were seeing someone new.  I found out over the fucking internet. 

I was livid.  I called you crying and pissed and so ready to write you off then (but I knew I wouldn’t, because I needed you too much). 

You’d told me that you wanted to wait because you didn’t want to ruin my Christmas.  I think that has to be the lamest excuse ever created, because you knew I would find out eventually.  I think you were just too chicken shit to tell me.  You’d been seeing her since October (about a week after I’d asked you if you wanted to get back with me, and only a few days after we’d decided to just be friends). 

You were with her for two months before I found out.  I’d even taken a road trip from school and drove down to Rhode Island when you were there for a few days.  We slept in the same hotel bed, for Christ’s sake.  We spent the weekend exploring the city and spending time together and you had a girlfriend the whole fucking time. 

It killed me, so damn much, to think that I’d trusted you with all of my secrets and fears and dreams…and you couldn’t even do me the courtesy of telling me that you’d moved on.

The next few weeks were spent in bouts of tears and bitter words.  We fought more in those few weeks than we’d ever fought in our entire relationship/friendship.  It was killing me.  It was killing me that you were slipping farther and farther away.   Your girlfriend tried to be friends with me, and part of me wants to believe that it was genuine, but I know girls and girls aren’t that nice.

She ended up letting it slip that she’d moved in with you.  I guess it was some issues with her step dad, or something dramatic like that.  Talk about a shot to the heart.  Not only do you have a new girlfriend, but she’s been living with you for a while too.

I would like to think that reaction was completely justified.  I’d been your best friend (and on/off girlfriend) for the past two years and here she was, stepping on my toes and acting like I was being the bad guy.  Excuse me, but I’m pretty sure that I wasn’t stealing anyone away from anyone else.

The worst part about it was when your girlfriend’s best friend decided to send me a scathing and horrible message (on myspace; cowardly bitch) that reamed me out for telling you I loved you and for “getting in the way.”  I showed it to you and you didn’t absolutely nothing.  You said that you “didn’t want to start anything” and that was it.  You didn’t defend me, even to me!  How hard would it have been to act upset and at least tell me that you would ask the girl to leave me alone?  How hard would it have been to pretend that you were outraged that I was being treated so badly by people that didn’t know me?

I think people were forgetting that you were my best friend first.  You were mine first, and I don’t care who she thinks she is…I was the one that was losing my best friend.  She had you and I didn’t…and I was about to lose you for good.

We ended up fighting again a few nights later.  It was the night of January 12th and into the early morning of the 13th.  I remember it like it was yesterday, and it still makes my stomach drop to think about it.  We were fighting about everything: my depression, your lying, your girlfriend, my fears…I think we were on the phone for five hours total.

But I could stand the fighting, because at some point it had to end.  I could stand the upset words, because they could be explained later.  It was your silence that killed me the most; it is your silence that makes all of this real.

At one point in the conversation I asked you to tell me that I was worth it.  I wanted to hear you say that my friendship was worth something to you, and I was willing to forget everything else and move forward.  I was willing to let everything else go and allow you to move on without putting up any more of a fuss.

But when I asked you to tell me that I was worth it…you said nothing.

You said nothing.

My heart has never broken as violently or shattered into as many pieces as it did that night.  I was physically sick afterwards, because I couldn’t believe that after two years and everything we’d been through you couldn’t even tell me that I was worth something to you.

Our friendship ended right there, that cold January night.

I knew that there was nothing that could save us after that.  So I did the only thing I knew to do.  I told you to leave me alone and never speak to me again.  I didn’t want to hear from you, I didn’t want to see you, and I most certainly couldn’t continue to be friends with you.  I’d asked you to erase my number from your phone, and I made you promise that you wouldn’t tell anyone what happened between us.  Especially her. 

I knew that because I was the one making the decision to let you go, I was going to be painted out to be the bad guy.  It didn’t matter that you’d given up on me long before I’d given up on you…I was the bitch for letting go last…for letting go with a finality that meant it was truly over.

I told you that I hoped it hurt you, because then at least I’d know that I had meant something to you at some point.  I wanted you to hurt, because I was sure that I was dying.

I did promise you that I wouldn’t kill myself and that I would seek help.  Which I did, but not because of you.  I did that for myself.

I couldn’t sleep that night, because I felt so sick from it all.  I stayed on the bathroom floor because I didn’t want to be far from the toilet.  You, the person that promised I you would never hurt me, had just done the worst thing a man has ever done to me.

You said nothing.