As time goes on, I wonder about you. I wonder about our friendship. I reflect on how we weren’t good friends to each other. I wonder about why we were even friends. Was it because there was no one else to be friends? Was it because we were both shunned by our classmates? I don’t know. People seemed to get along better with you than me. Maybe because I shunned them back. Maybe because I didn’t care if they liked me or not.
I wonder how you didn’t see that you didn’t own up to anything you did wrong. I don’t know why you needed to be the centre of attention. I don’t know why you needed people to feel sorry for you for being a foster child and for having so many immediate family members with disabilities. I don’t know why you felt the need to try and force your opinions down other people’s throats even when they’re trying to voice their own opinion.
I also wonder why you blamed me for everything that went wrong during our friendship. I wonder why you made me look like the bad guy and why you made yourself look like a saint who can do no wrong. I wonder why you omitted the details of what you did wrong. I wonder why you never admitted that you weren’t the greatest friend either.
I wonder if you told anyone that at first you never liked me. I wonder if you told anyone that you thought that I was ugly and that you thought I needed a make over. I wonder if you told anyone that you thought I reminded you of a not so nice carer who was at the group home you were in as a child. I wonder if the people who believed you over me knew any of that. I wonder if they knew how judgmental you were. I wonder if the people who believed you knew that you don’t take responsibility of your actions and that you don’t like confrontation because you don’t like getting into trouble.