{"id":630,"date":"2022-10-28T03:44:00","date_gmt":"2022-10-28T03:44:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/blog.annavaneekeren.com\/digistory\/uncategorized\/quick-eye-makeup\/"},"modified":"2023-12-12T05:05:13","modified_gmt":"2023-12-12T05:05:13","slug":"friend","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blog.annavaneekeren.com\/digistory\/21-pieces\/friend\/","title":{"rendered":"A Letter to a Friend"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<p>Feel free to listen as you read! (Or just listen or just read!) <\/p>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-audio\"><audio controls src=\"https:\/\/blog.annavaneekeren.com\/digistory\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/10\/A-Letter-to-a-Friend.m4a\"><\/audio><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<pre class=\"wp-block-preformatted has-ast-global-color-4-background-color has-background\" style=\"font-family:montserrat;font-style:normal;font-weight:400\">I.\tWe\u2019re soaring down the highway, blasting music and chasing tomorrow, wind roaring in our faces, voices fading into the night. A glistening canopy above us, an endless road of possibility.  \n\nII.\tYelling at our parents who just don\u2019t understand, rolling our eyes, eager to find new lands. Musing about the future, the places we\u2019ll explore, the people we\u2019ll meet, the stuff we\u2019ll do once we\u2019re free and out of this suffocating society. \n\nIII.\tLaughing in busy streets, a photoshoot in the east, capture these ephemeral moments of blissful feat. Dancing in pouring rain and sneaking drinks and candy and games again. Watching movies and putting on face masks, cradling pets and attempting cultural cooking tasks. Concerts in eclipse hours, illuminated spectrums of dazzling power. Shopping hours on end, thrifting and making random TikToks to the latest trend. Bubble tea and walks in the park, days spent together swirling to dark. \n\nIV.\tIf only I had known. If only I could sense. But I was blind, fooled by your pretense. Lulled into six years of comfort and security. You couldn\u2019t, you <em>wouldn\u2019t<\/em>, do this to me.\n\nV.\tRage. Searing hot. Piercing. Unfathomable, this hurt. I can\u2019t breathe. I can\u2019t comprehend. How you left me, how you stranded me, for him. Changed yourself, all our plans, right before even though you swore. You\u2019d never betray me.   \n\nVI.\tHow I stood there, waiting, disassociating, hoping I was wrong. How my mother cradled me in her arms as I sobbed uncontrollably. How you kept talking about him afterward, how you only <em>ever<\/em> talked about him, how every single fucking thing became about him. How we \u2013 <em>us<\/em> \u2013 slowly slipped into oblivion. Day by day. How you ignored EVERYTHING I said and threw yourself into these situations. Over and over. How you didn\u2019t apologize until it was too late. How you said you were sorry, but wouldn\u2019t you change what happened? How you took me for granted, my home, my voice, my time, only ever visiting to party and get drunk, always on your phone, never truly hanging out like we used to. How <em>even<\/em> then, I cared, I was there. The hours I spent consoling, comforting, standing by your side. Supporting you while you cried. Sharing resources and pleading with you to seek help more qualified. I tried. I tried and tried and tried. To help, to forgive, to move on. Only to find you were already gone. \n\nVII.\tHow I knew, on our impromptu trip to New York, a last-ditch effort to salvage what remained where just two years prior we soared, it was over. How your actions, a culmination of strikingly differing behaviors I\u2019d gradually noticed, violated core values of mine. How your utter lack of self-awareness, empathy, maturity, and understanding splintered what was left. How you sat across from me at lunch on your <em>fucking phone<\/em>, and everything, everything you had done, all the pain, all the times I supported you, fractured entirely. And I knew, I\u2019d lost you.\n\nVIII.\tStrained texts. A meme. A TikTok. Curt replies. Growing distance. At first, days, weeks. Then, months. An entire summer. A semester. We haven\u2019t spoken.  \n\nIX.\tYou were struggling, I recognize. Dealing with things I can only surmise. Blinking in broken beats of a past buried so deep. But the blade is steeped. The memories reaped. My body, my mind, won\u2019t let this repeat. \n\nX.\tAnd I don\u2019t know which is worse. Wishing you were here. Or wishing things were reversed. \n\nXI.\t\n<\/pre>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-table is-style-regular\"><table class=\"has-fixed-layout\"><tbody><tr><td>I can&#8217;t stand the sight of these photos, these stupid videos and texts, the pieces you left behind. &nbsp;<\/td><td>I can&#8217;t bring myself to delete them, to erase the moments they hold, the people we were.<\/td><\/tr><tr><td>I never want to see you again.<\/td><td>I see you, in the songs you like, the shows and food. In memories underground. In perfect places we found.<\/td><\/tr><tr><td>I\u2019m ceasing all communication.<\/td><td>Why am I still following you on social media? Why do I still like and comment on your posts? Why do you comment on mine? Why do I reply?<\/td><\/tr><tr><td>GOOD FUCKING RIDDANCE!!!<\/td><td>Maybe we can still fix this. Maybe we just needed time, a break, to grow and remediate.<\/td><\/tr><tr><td>I hate you.<\/td><td>I miss you.<\/td><\/tr><\/tbody><\/table><\/figure>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>I don&#8217;t know which is worse. Wishing you were here or wishing things were reversed. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2186,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_uag_custom_page_level_css":"","site-sidebar-layout":"default","site-content-layout":"default","ast-site-content-layout":"default","site-content-style":"default","site-sidebar-style":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"","footer-sml-layout":"","ast-disable-related-posts":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","astra-migrate-meta-layouts":"set","ast-page-background-enabled":"default","ast-page-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"ast-content-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"footnotes":"[]"},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-630","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-21-pieces"],"uagb_featured_image_src":{"full":["https:\/\/blog.annavaneekeren.com\/digistory\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/10\/friend.jpg",1500,902,false],"thumbnail":["https:\/\/blog.annavaneekeren.com\/digistory\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/10\/friend-150x150.jpg",150,150,true],"medium":["https:\/\/blog.annavaneekeren.com\/digistory\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/10\/friend-300x180.jpg",300,180,true],"medium_large":["https:\/\/blog.annavaneekeren.com\/digistory\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/10\/friend-768x462.jpg",768,462,true],"large":["https:\/\/blog.annavaneekeren.com\/digistory\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/10\/friend-1024x616.jpg",1024,616,true],"1536x1536":["https:\/\/blog.annavaneekeren.com\/digistory\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/10\/friend.jpg",1500,902,false],"2048x2048":["https:\/\/blog.annavaneekeren.com\/digistory\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/10\/friend.jpg",1500,902,false]},"uagb_author_info":{"display_name":"admin","author_link":"https:\/\/blog.annavaneekeren.com\/digistory\/author\/admin\/"},"uagb_comment_info":0,"uagb_excerpt":"I don't know which is worse. Wishing you were here or wishing things were reversed.","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.annavaneekeren.com\/digistory\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/630","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.annavaneekeren.com\/digistory\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.annavaneekeren.com\/digistory\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.annavaneekeren.com\/digistory\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.annavaneekeren.com\/digistory\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=630"}],"version-history":[{"count":16,"href":"https:\/\/blog.annavaneekeren.com\/digistory\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/630\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2496,"href":"https:\/\/blog.annavaneekeren.com\/digistory\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/630\/revisions\/2496"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.annavaneekeren.com\/digistory\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2186"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.annavaneekeren.com\/digistory\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=630"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.annavaneekeren.com\/digistory\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=630"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.annavaneekeren.com\/digistory\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=630"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}