I love you, but I’m tired.
Dear Friend,
We’ve not been talking as much as usual, but it’s not my fault.
I try to be there for you. I really do, but you never let anyone be.
I know I have my issues and I can be like that sometimes, so I don’t understand why it upsets me when you do it.
You disappeared, and nothing has been the same since you came back. Okay, that’s a bit dramatic, but you know what I mean.
This was supposed to be general, but I have somehow made it about you.
I know you needed to disappear, and I was selfish for taking it personally. All I could think was “Why would you do this to me?”
I was a bit mad at first, but not anymore. Honestly, I was more worried than angry.
You have no idea I took it personally because I never told you. It would have been silly to. You were back, and that was all that mattered.
You did what you had to. Something I know I need to, but can’t. Not the way you did anyway.
I can’t disappear because everyone would think something is wrong (they’d be right, but that’s not the point) or worse; no one would notice.
I know the point of disappearing is to avoid people, but no one noticing would hurt.
Actually, no one noticing would be great. I would not have to come back. I would not need to be present when I don’t want to be.
I was talking about you, and I made it about myself again. Why do I do that? I’m sorry. I’ll focus now.
Back to you reappearing. You’re back, but not really.
You’re not better, and there’s nothing I can do. I can’t even be here for you.
I love you, but I’m tired. I cannot be here now that you need me, and I’m sorry. I cannot be here for anyone.
No, I am not okay. No, I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t even know what it is. All I know is I don’t want to be here right now.
I could have sent a voice note or a text instead of writing this, but whatever.
Don’t worry. I’m not disappearing, but I won’t be here. I’ll be back anytime from tomorrow to next week and I’ll call you then. Hopefully, you’ll be here.
Love,
Tunta.
