Open letter to Glasses Girl.

Dear Glasses Girl,

That’s what my mom still calls you, so that’s who I’ll address this to. It’s mostly so you remain anonymous, but it’s partly because my mom could never pronounce your name.

I hope you’re well. I hope you’re healthy. I hope your relationships with friends, family, and anyone special fill your cup till it overflows.

I remember when I first met you in person. We had gone back and forth on Myspace before it got buried by Facebook, and now Facebook’s being buried by Instagram. I remember standing in line outside of seventh-grade science class with you, waiting for fourth period to start. I was so shy. Not a single word could leave my mouth. You gently said “talk to me” but nothing came out. I wasn’t good at making friends.

It was clear we’d be close from the beginning. Funny conversations, heartbreak consolations, family drama, etc. Anything and everything under the sun was up for grabs in our friendship. You talked me through my depression. You protected me from bullies. You were patient with my angry outbursts as a young, hurting boy.

I was grateful to call you my best friend for so long. Whenever I needed a shoulder to sob on, you were there, and vice versa, for nine whole years.

My life started going downhill near the end of college. I wasn’t sure what to do in life. I felt like I was wasting four years on some degree I didn’t know how to use. I didn’t have the same drive as my peers. I didn’t have anything on my CV besides a good GPA. I sobbed on a campus bench in front of everyone on the first day of my last year. I felt like the biggest loser.

I knew I could reach out to my best friend in my time of need, and that’s what I did.

Your Facebook profile was gone. Huh. I thought that was odd.

I grew worried if you were okay. I hoped you were just taking a social media break.

I sent you a text. No response for days. Days turn to weeks. Weeks turn to months.

I ask our mutual friend if your Facebook is still active. It is. Turns out you were fine. You just blocked me.

I didn’t know what to think. I was happy you were alive. I was sad we weren’t on good terms. I didn’t have a clue what I’d done to fall out of your good graces, but I figured nine years’ worth of support would warrant at least a spiteful “Go fuck yourself.”

But, to ghost me? The pain was unimaginable, yet I had no time to process it with all of my final projects underway in school. I had to rush to graduation and then quickly fell into a deeper, aimless depression that had me spend a night in a psychiatric ward. My life has been uphill since then, thankfully.

Four years have passed since you decided to leave. I survived my household. I survived the start and end of an abusive relationship. I have a full-time job. I bought my mom’s car from her. I hope you’re proud of me.

I never had the chance to process the pain up until today. Neighbors in this specialty café peek at my laptop only to wonder who the Glasses Girl I’m writing about is. I look tense. I look somber. I’m hiding it well. I’m on the verge of tears.

I’m not in the practice of begging people to stay. My mom is the same way. When my dad came home, years ago, and said he wanted to leave for a different woman, all my mom had to say was “The door is right there.” She didn’t get mad. She didn’t yell. She stopped hanging on tightly long ago. You were that moment for me. Anyone who wants to step out can do so. Anyone who wants to stay gets all my love and more.

As you made the handful of clicks to remove me from your life, what were you thinking about? Was it about all the times my mom made you dinner after she worked a twelve-hour shift? All the times I opened my home to you when you were scared that your family was kicking you out? All the times we called each other crying about some dumb guy or girl that broke our hearts for the tenth time? Or was it some unspeakable thing that I did to incur your absence, something so terrible that you couldn’t even say something to me before leaving? Or was it nothing at all? You haven’t said a word to any of our mutual friends about it. Given how chatty they are, I figured word would’ve gotten to me at some point.

Maybe you just decided you were done with me. Maybe I represented a past chapter of your life. Maybe I knew too much about you, too much that you wanted to leave behind you.

I get it, but it hurt. God, it hurt and it still does. I have no flowery words for how much it hurt. This isn’t a poem to some lover or some entry about how much I’ve grown over the years. This is an open letter to someone who was my best friend for nine years before leaving me when I needed you most. It just fucking hurt. My chest feels like it’s going to burst just writing this.

We were laughing over dinner just a few months prior and next thing I know, you’re gone. You’re gone forever. What could I have possibly done to you in that small window of time to warrant that?

I never got to say goodbye.

Even my mom has trouble believing it. You and I haven’t spoken in four years, but my mom still asks about you a lot. My cousin does too. In the rare times that I can make it to dinner with my family, which these days is few and far between, they still ask about you. My mom still calls you Glasses Girl. She asks if I’ve heard anything from you. My little introverted family will be silently munching away after a long day before the question "Have you talked to Glasses Girl?” comes flying at me from across the dining table. I say “No, and I don’t want to.” Her face turns sad because she knows I’m hurting but won’t show it. She still wants me to hold on tight because she can’t anymore. She doesn’t want me to be jaded like she is. She doesn’t want me to only need myself.

It’s so fucking embarrassing fighting back tears in public, but I woke up today knowing I had to write this. The words and feelings to move on from this come and go amidst the busyness of life. I finally have time on a day that I woke up with it tugging at my heart. My body feels so cold. My bones feel brittle and my throat feels closed.

You’re like a phantom best friend in the same fashion as a phantom limb. Long after you’re gone, I still have moments where I find myself excited to tell you happy news, wondering what you’d say in a given situation, or laughing at a funny meme that I wanna send to you, but I can’t because you’re not with me anymore.

I miss you so much, but I hope we never meet again. I hope I remain a closed chapter in your life. I hope however you needed to grow as a person from no longer talking to me carries into the rest of your life and helps you make good, healthy, happy decisions that bring you everlasting peace and prosperity.

I have new friends now. I’m showered with love and affection every day. They spoil me rotten even when it’s not my birthday, sometimes out of the blue. They listen. They push me to be the best I can be. I’m well taken care of in your absence. I hope you are too.

I have to end this letter and start crying. It’s been so long and so much has happened. You won’t even know who I’m signing off as.

Thank you for everything. For all the laughs. For all the late talks. For letting me vomit in your bathroom after I got shit-faced at your birthday party in eighth grade. For being part of our friend’s quinceañera with me; dance practice that whole summer was so fun. For running errands with me throughout the years. For sending me dirty memes to crack me up in the middle of class. For coming to all my birthday parties. For cheering me up on bad days at school. For inviting me to your sweet sixteen and making me dress up for dinner at The Cheesecake Factory; if we still talked, I’d still make fun of you for being part of the meme. For picking up every time I had a breakdown. For being my best friend.

And finally, for leaving. I wouldn’t have hit rock bottom nor would I have grown without your decision, no matter how much it hurt.

I’m gonna keep holding on tightly to all the friendly hands in my life. Yes, everything comes to an end. No, I don’t care that it does.

With endless wishes of happiness and abundance in your life, wherever you go, with anyone you meet, at every moment in life,

Maxine