[a writing piece] KEY: in purple is my edits from PRESENT. normal text is from the PAST.

They say write to set yourself free, so that’s what I’m doing.

She’s in the back of my mind now. She’s a ghost I don’t pay attention to, the ghost that can’t scare me anymore because her methods are so old to me now, so common.

She’s the ghost that still whispers tales about me today, hoping I’ll mess up again one day, and I know she acts like she doesn’t care but behind the curtains I hear my name.

Her playlist was titled with my initials. Her profile came up as a user not found. She cut me out but left me a trail of spite, because she knew I’d be the Hansel and pick up the pieces and she knew the pieces would lead to her.

And she’s right, I loved every one of my little ghosts and I love so easily.

My name rhymes with hate, it rhymes with pain. It rhymes with attachment. It rhymes with defeat, cherishment, and delicacy.

I lost. My imagination never lost to her, but in reality, I lost, and she made sure everyone knew it. It’s time to step away from reality for a little while. Even if it’s just a moment.

So dear (redacted cause this is my name), pretend that this is how it really went, how this will happen again, how this time you’ll sing because you’re angry and strong and you need to tell people. Every time you read this the story will be different, it’ll be a little farther away from reality, from possibility. But just imagine. What if it went this way? What if everyone knew what really happened, what if everyone knew that she’s not the victim? What if everyone knew you just held it in because you thought it would eventually be okay, and then she beat you?

Dear (redacted because this is her name)
That’s genuinely rude. A’s actually a lot smarter than what everyone says of her. She’s really creative, has a great imagination. If she thinks she can do it, maybe you should support that and help her along the way instead of calling her not smart enough. I’m sorry, A. I'm still sorry, A. We don't talk anymore since you left to a different HS, but I still should have spoken up. I'll regret this for the rest of my life, even if the regret gets better over time.

I think I know me better than you know me, and it’s honestly weird that you act like you can correctly label my entire personality. I'm sorry, me, for not standing up for you.

I know what you’re up to. I don’t understand why you want me to apologize in front of everybody. If you were genuinely hurt by this, an apology privately would be enough, because you know I’m sincere. It’s like you want me to announce to the world that you were the victim, and that I’m the bad guy. I know I wasn’t right, I was stupid, but it’s so obvious that you want me to apologize privately, publicly, in real life, on live television because you want me labeled as wrong. You want me to be hated, you think I deserve that. You’ll never say this, it’s too late, but maybe when you do, you’ll be a little braver.

Why are you making an alt or something and trying to snatch info from us? I was trying to be honest to your “friend” because I thought she genuinely cared. But now I think it’s your (fricking) alt. There’s no way she showed you everything. There’s no way she comforted me, asked me to be honest, then told everything to you. Every time she texts me it’s about you. Then she goes on public and shames me, takes your side. She acts like my friend but is really yours, right? You think I don’t know but I’m not stupid. I know everything. If I ever talk to her about what happened between us again, I'm definitely angry enough to slam her in the face with this.

I know what you’re thinking. I know what you say behind my back, I know how you act behind my back. I can look at your face and read everything. I never want to see your face again.

I wished everyone knew the truth about you. How you act for attention. How you think you’re so great. How you act like you’re such a good friend, then turn your back for people like me. How you treat people, and how you’re so lucky it was me you treated that way, how you’re so lucky I was too young, too scared, too hurt to ever speak up. You’re lucky I was someone who kept my pain to myself. Or else everyone would know about you. I hope you know one day that everyone will know about you one day. Long story short, they do. After she posted thirst traps on tiktok, and did some other things i won't mention, a lot of people started turning against her. i genuinely don't know how to feel about this, but i'm . . . sort of glad ig

Every time I visit my friend's house I look over at hers and wonder what she’s doing. Every time I wake up at night and her name double-crosses my mind, I wonder if she thinks of me. I wonder if she cares, I wonder if she’s bothered because she was so wrong. you know what? maybe she is. but if she is bothered, she doesn't show it well. so why should i care if she's not willing to say sorry? it just speaks more about her character.

I wonder, when I wake up at night and think of her, is she sleeping peacefully? Does she even care? Now that i think of it, maybe she does. she blocked me and unblocked me repetitively. she posted about me. she talked about me and still talks about me to this day. that says a lot. i think she cares, and i'm glad i don't care anymore because caring is fricking exhausting.

Dear (redacted my name) again,
You’ve been caged for too long. There are two versions of the key that can release you; she has one and you have the other. She’s thrown away her key.

Think of it this way.

Every time she glances at you from the corner of her eyes, she sees you smiling. Every time she looks over at you, you’re with a friend she wishes was hers. She never notices when you look at her. She never notices how sad you are. She thinks you’re apathetic. She thinks you don’t care, and that only she cares, just like how you think right now. Maybe she looks over at you and wants to say sorry, but just can’t find the courage to. Maybe she hasn’t thrown away her key, maybe it’s just kept underneath her pillow so that she can take it out when she’s ready. Maybe she hurts, too.

Maybe she doesn’t care.

But it’s time to write her own will for her.

She’s the first person I’ve genuinely hated. I was thirteen.

But now I’m fourteen. Maybe I don't have to love her, but maybe I can walk away. Now I'm fifteen, and I really think i've walked away.

Rest, but don’t rest peacefully. I hope she’ll never be peaceful when she thinks of me. this part is complicated. part of me still wishes she'll be burdened by the fact that she was terrible to me. but part of me now just wishes she'll forget about me.

But I know I’ll visit her grave once every few years, every few nights when the nightlight is off. as time goes on, i visit less and less. none now

I love too easily.

{end}

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this piece was originally "rest, but not too peacefully." it is about an irl friend

it has so much hate in it, and tbh as much as i enjoy some change, its lowkey weird to see how much i have changed as a person

it also kind of hurts to read it because i don't like to think of myself with someone who holds grudges (even though i do, i really do )

but i hope this helps everyone know that, if u hate someone with all ur heart, ur not alone.

update is, i don't have any classes with her in high school and i haven't spoken a word with her. i haven't even looked at her and now i can't even remember what she looks like from the top of my mind. when i think of my times with her, i grimace a little, but move on.

from this book i read recently, "tomorrow will be better."