To those who failed with me:

A note from Heather:

To those who failed with me:

I chose that salutation intentionally. I chose it because at the core of the past relationships I'm referencing in this, we all had the same intentions. To end up together. We failed. It's easy for me to blame you and maintain the perspective that YOU failed at our relationship. Ultimately, it doesn't matter...we both failed. Sure, one of us probably failed more than the other and thus, the blame probably lies more heavily on my shoulders or yours. Our lives would be different if we had succeeded, and that's the truth. It could be twisted that I'm meshing together experiences from multiple relationships here, but they're all genuine and all authentic.

I rarely find a conflict between my head and my heart, but you'll always be there. You'll always exist in that spot. It's a spot I don't acknowledge often, as I always side with my head. But you're there, and you're the reminder that I'm a human with faults, and conflicts, and a longing to be a girl who thinks with her heart. But that isn't me.

I miss someone going out of their way to make childish inside jokes with me...things that only you and I would catch on to. We were kids. Yeah, it was elementary, but I miss our jokes about honeymoon destinations and making code words to exchange "I love you" instead of actually saying those three words. Every so often I hear from you, and you have a knack for finding a way to reference these inside jokes. I grasp for reality, completely jarred by you. I usually respond with a snide and dismissive comment, because that's all I can manage to keep myself from losing grip of the reality. The reality that we failed. I have to say something to make it clear that you don't matter to me, but that isn't true. I've received messages from you while in QuikTrip parking lots and coffee shops, where I've literally sat frozen for minutes trying to grasp reality. It's a painful process in which I remember why our reality exists, and that's because I didn't mean enough to you. I wasn't what you wanted.

I always defended you, and I know you defended me. I doubt you defend me anymore, but I think it's worth noting that I haven't changed a lot from the girl who you stood by for those years. The only thing that has changed is that you don't care now. And as you read this, I imagine you will puff your chest out with pride at the fact that you no longer care. The thought of that literally pains me and my hands grow hot as I type those words. I know it's reality, though. I never thought about a day when you wouldn't care, but I know one of my biggest faults with us is that I wasn't thinking far enough ahead.

I hate that I made you such a priority when you rarely followed through. I hung onto your words and re-read text messages from you, always trying to time and word my response perfectly. I hoped a perfect response would make you care. In your defense, I expected you to follow through as we tried to maintain our friendship after dating, and our dating end was an unfortunate one. I dumped you and came home to find you had already arranged to have flowers delivered to me. I had told you I was probably getting back together with an ex. That wasn't true.

I've held on to anger and pain toward you for many reasons. I can't imagine what it feels like to know you hurt someone like you hurt me. I've never let you forget it. I plan to make a better effort to be more graceful in my interactions with you.

We shared incredibly emotional times with each other. We both took advantage of the fact that I was there for you during some really dark times, and you stood by me during some dark times as well.  I used it to think that you needed me, wanted me, and wouldn't leave. You used it to cling to me and subconsciously think I could be your savior.

Sometimes people ask about you. I wonder if people ask you about me. I wonder what you tell them.

I miss knowing that someone, as shallow as this sounds, would always think I was pretty. I miss knowing that someone got butterflies when I came around, and had no shame in letting me know, even when I took advantage of that. Compliments from you were abundant, but they never lost their impact.

I miss reminding you of how much potential you had to be a good guy. I held you to a higher standard and nagged you because I knew you were capable of more. I hope you know I still care. I remember the night I found out you had moved on...sometimes my ability to cyber stalk people results in regret. I knew what I was going to find, but seeing her face next to yours in a photo felt like a betrayal. It hurt even more to acknowledge that I didn't have a right to feel betrayed.

I'll always miss your family and most of all, miss being accepted by your family. They meant so much to me.

I'll never be able to apologize to you like I should. I acknowledge that, and it's messed up. I felt pressure from you and ultimately, I caved under that pressure. I do okay with pressure typically, but not in relationships. I know we weren't right together then, but I think you would have done anything to make us right. I didn't give you that chance. I was never fully honest with you about why we had to end. I know you're happy now, which does make me happy. You found the girl that I wasn't.

I miss you being protective, and me pretending (in my feminist way) that I was offended by that. I wasn't. It always made me feel good to be worth protecting...not necessarily that I think I'm weak or without value otherwise, just thinking that you cared enough about me to protect me...It's manipulative of me and unhealthy, but here I am.

I had bouts of courage and pride where I could say just the right thing to stick a knife in your heart. I hate that I always did that. I'm the queen of one-liners and they keep a wall up to avoid vulnerability.

You and I were both all-in. We were never all-in at the same time, though. You became burnt out with me and by the time I was all-in, you were done.

I don't know if I can say that I forgive you or if I'm fully capable of that. I do know I haven't forgotten. I haven't forgotten everything that happened. I won't forget the night that I found out you had moved on. I got off the phone nonchalantly while regretting that I had called you that night. I sobbed so hysterically that I gagged myself accidentally. You don't know that. I'll never tell you directly. I cared that much after all that time. I also haven't forgotten the good things, but at times I wish I did.

We all failed, but I'm not sure we can say we both really tried.

A note from Holly:

Wow, I just....*sigh* Ouch. Just ouch. Even though Heather and I dated different people (mostly) and had very different relationships (sorta), this post hurts.

It reminds me of a time in elementary school when I saw a classmate fall off the jungle gym. She couldn't breathe. The teachers came running over stating that she "got the wind knocked out of her."

While they were picking her up and rubbing her back, I cried.

That's what this post feels like to me. It feels like the pain actually happened to someone else...it's Heather that got the wind knocked out of her...but all I want to do is cry.

I doubt I'm the only one who feels this way. It's hard to read something and have it hit so close to home that you actually feel like you're reading your own story. Frankly, this realization comes at a difficult time for me. I could blame Adele and the perfection that is "Hello," but I think the circumstances of this week have forced me to take on new battles with some very old feelings. Those of you who know me well, know that this is a battle I've been fighting for a while...

But I want to take a moment to say I'm so proud of Heather for writing this. Frankly, it's the first piece she's written where I felt I got to learn a little bit more about her. I know her pretty well, my kid sister, but I guess we all have things that we just don't want to talk about. Thanks for talking about it, kid.

Hugs and frogs,
Heather and Holly