Dear Sammie,


I wish that you would listen to me. When I talk to you say “that’s nice,” “cool,” or sometimes “why should I care?” When I ask you about it, you say that you do listen and you do care. But you don’t.

You only hear me. Listening is when you stop and think about what some one is saying, hearing is when the noise goes into your ear, but it doesn’t really register in your brain.

Yesterday during math class, when I complained about being paired up with, small-brained, large-bodied, Eric for a science project, you said that I shouldn’t complain so much. But why can’t I complain? I’m a human, after all.

Then later that day, when you were talking to Hannah on the lunch line and I came a little later, I asked you what you were talking about. You said that I shouldn’t be so nosy. But if I had gotten there five minutes earlier, wouldn’t I have been in the conversation?

When we walked home together that afternoon, like we usually do, I tried not to say anything that wasn’t nosy or a complaint. We didn’t say anything to each other that whole walk. It made me wonder, was that all I could be, a grumpy old gossip? But you didn’t make any effort to talk to me either. This infuriates me. Do you not care about me anymore?

I’ve had time to think about our friendship. An exceptional friend is someone who knows you like the back of their hand, makes you feel good about yourself, and never chooses some one else over their friend. You’ve known me forever, I remember playing barbie dolls with you when we were 6 and we listed each other as sisters on facebook, but recently we’ve been drifting apart, when we were walking home yesterday you made me question whether being me is a good thing.

This is what I would say in a letter to you. If our relationship had good communication, I could tell you all these things in person. But since it doesn’t, you might never know. But this is what I would say.


From,

Lena