End the damn chapter

To the person who this story is about: If you are reading this, I want you know that I should have told you this before. It’s high time I told you about how you made me feel that day. With that thought, also know that I don’t want to hold it against you. I’m only writing this because I don’t think I’ll ever be able to tell you in person, so instead I’ll write it up here, and hope that you search through my blog out of curiosity someday. I need to tell you this, because if I don’t, I don’t know if I’ll be able to forgive myself for what I did.

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I pulled up to the entrance 5 minutes early. I begged the line to move faster while catching my breath, as I had just sprinted from the train station. I had just come from class. I’d just barely convinced my parents to let me be there that day. I sent a message to the group chat. No reply.

10 minutes later I was in. I looked up and down the road, looking for your face. It’s fine I thought. They must have already gone ahead. I’ll just call them. It’ll be fine. The dial tone played through once. Then twice. My feet were hurting so I wandered towards the curb as groups of people past by me, laughing over the roar of the crowd. I lowered myself onto the ground and paused. Where were you guys? Maybe you were late? Maybe your ringers are off? Maybe I’ll call again.

Another 10 minutes pass. By this time, the worries were creeping onto me. You promised you would come. You promised it wouldn’t be like last time. You promised, not once, but twice. My phone buzzed, and a jolt of anticipation vibrated through me. It wasn’t you, it was the other girl. My fingers fumbled to type in the password and a neon green text message popped up:

“My parents told me I couldn’t come today because there aren’t enough people going. Sorry, I was gonna tell you yesterday night.”

I probably read through that message 5 or 6 times.

Please, no.

Don’t do this to me.

I stifled a whimper and clicked the phone off. My hands fell to the hard concrete to support me as I swung my head back so that I could see sky. It was blue and calm and beautiful, but I wasn’t trying to admire it. I was trying to keep the tears from running down my face. I couldn’t seriously be crying about this. It’s not like the world is over or anything. Afterall, you were still coming. The other girl just forgot to tell me, that’s all. We all forget things from time to time…right?

30 minutes past when I was supposed to meet you, I finally got your message. You were late. You had an appointment. It was going to be another hour before you reached. You were sorry. Okay. Okay then. That’s fine. I guess I’ll just kill another hour. It could be worse. I got up and wandered into the sea of people. I searched through the various stall until I found the ticket vendor. I’d bought my tickets in advance, so I walked up and exchanged my coupon for the large set of tickets.

This wasn’t so bad. I had tickets and there were games and I had time to kill. The first 45 minutes were fine. I’d picked up a giant Pikachu plush as a prize already, and was wandering around with it tagged to my backpack. My sister was going to freak out when she saw it. I figured I should probably save the rest of the tickets so that I could spend them with you. I sat down on a nearby bench and sent you a text:

“Hey! Are you almost here yet?”

You were not almost here yet. It was going to be an additional hour. You apologized profusely and, after typing then deleting my response multiple times, I told you it was okay.

I was not okay. Reality was starting to kick in. I was a girl, alone, wearing clothes that weren’t as conservative as I was used to, and I was in the middle of herds of people. This was not okay. But you were going to be there soon, right? The weight building in my stomach was growing. Stop it. She told you she’d be here, didn’t she? Besides, this place is supposed to be fun, so stop worrying and enjoy it. I spent another 45 minutes burning through tickets. I won nothing. I bought lunch, but didn’t eat it. I wished you were there with me.

By the time I called you, the time had shifted from 2pm to 4:45pm. On the second try, you picked up. By this point, I don’t know why I asked you where you were. I know you. Had you been on your way, you would have messaged me which train station you had reached. But instead, I was calling you again. I’m not sure if you could hear it, but as we spoke, a voice of spite found its way into my words. Something about the fact that you continued apologizing set a small fire in me. That fire wanted straight forward answers. It sneered and fed an attitude into my tone. It asked you if you were coming at all. You said no.

That was it. I walked up to the nearest stand and spent my remaining tickets as quickly as I could. I bumped into people and didn’t bother to turn back and apologize. You weren’t coming? Why was that surprising to me? It’s not like it hadn’t happened before. My mind filled with thoughts much worse than that, but I’m not proud to remember them. I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want to cry. I didn’t want to think about how much I wanted it to work out. You promised. And I trusted you. Again.

The anger didn’t last long, but I was upset for quite a while. When I got home early and my parents asked me what happened, they didn’t seem surprised. They banned me from hanging out with you alone for the next couple of months. I never told you much about that though because even after I realized that I was not at fault, I also knew that you were just as aware of it. I never asked you, but whenever I saw you after that, there was this solemn look in your eyes that apologized. I know you felt bad. So I never told you how bad I felt. I didn’t want to make you feel any worse than you already were. You recognized what you did, and that is why I wanted to stay friends with you. I’m sorry I never told you the truth about how I felt though. Communication is a street that goes both ways, and by neglecting that, I’ve caused unnecessary tension between us now. If you’re reading this, I want you to know that I’m sorry, and that I’ve forgiven you for that whole situation. I just haven’t forgiven myself for hiding from you.

Ever since then, part of me stopped trusting you. It has been literal years, and the both of us have grown into very different individuals, and yet I still don’t fully trust you. You have made up for this whole thing on many occasions, and we have even discussed how much closer we’ve gotten. But for some reason, I never let that fear go. That fear that you were going to break my trust. So, the day that you told me just how much you trusted me, I realized just how stupid I was being. By not telling you about my feelings I created this divide, this separator that is no longer appropriate in our friendship. So, with this post, I hope to complete this overdue explaination.

but. I still can’t bring myself to tell you. I’m a coward. But still, that isn’t a very good excuse. I hope you read this. Cause I can’t bring myself to tell you. I’m sorry.