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A Letter To a Fake Friend Who Also Happens To Be My Roommate

Dear Fake Friend,

When we first met, you hugged me like we had been friends for years. You were so quick to say that we would be best friends forever. I was shocked by your confidence and how quickly you welcomed me, so I didn’t notice that you did the same thing to so many others. Maybe I didn’t notice because of how quickly you would move on from one person to the other. On to the next model.

I felt like with each new “friend” you made, the higher I would have to step on your “social ladder” to keep from falling out of our supposed “friendship.” I felt that I had to compete with them because if I didn’t help with your social climb, then what use was I right? You stepped on my back as I lifted you up, but forgot I was still underneath. You made me feel like an inanimate thing.

You pushed your way into circles of friends, trying to embed yourself and be seen. You failed to make room for me but when that circle closed up leaving you on the outside, you acted as though nothing happened and crawled back to me. You expected me to wait for you on hand and knee. But that’s not what friendship means.

You called me heartless when I didn’t open up to you. You told others I was “cold” and laughed as if it was some joke. As if I was just some detached character on a TV screen, playing out some role for your amusement. Then, when I did open up to you or share a vulnerable moment, you turned around and made them into “icebreakers” or gossip to raise yourself up and put me down. My secrets and my humiliation were your ammunition.

You considered me to be lesser. You thought you could control me because I was not as loud, I didn’t care if I had a million “best friends” and you were more “popular” right? You thought you were “kind” and “sensitive.” Or at least you tried so hard to make people believe that. Comparatively, you fit much better on a TV screen than I did. Always trying to be the fan favorite.

Now, I see through you. You were never my friend. You never intended any type of “forever” with me. You hurt me. Your conversations were scripted, your laughter was canned, and your eyes were always looking for something next, something “better.” I wish I could leave. I wish I could turn off this TV. But, you are my roommate. Until this year is over, I must learn to cohabitate with you and your toxicity (a roommate I did not intend to have). So, in the meantime, I’ll just switch the channel. There’s always something better on anyways.

With paper hearts and hershey kisses…

Your Roommate


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