Dear "Best Friend,"
I'd like to say I don't hold grudges on you for all the times that you abandonded me and made middle school a nightmare for me, but I do. I'd like to say that it doesn't sting that you didn't call me when I was out of school for two months, but it still does.
I know, you've grown up since then, but it's hard to forget all that. I know you could just dump me again, and my trust for you is really thin. And, on the topic of maturity... I don't think you have as much as the rest of us. You keep on talking about how much you miss childhood when we're all looking foward to the future. I know it's probably because of all of the terrible things you've gone through, but at some point you have to leave the past where it is and just move on.
Sometimes I feel like you're holding me back. I want to be a normal teenager and do normal teenage things, and you keep on talking about making crafts and climbing trees. Babe, it's not third grade. I wanna party, and experience life. But when people associate me with you and your, well, chilidish ways, they think I wouldn't be up for more mature things.
Honestly, the truth is, I've grown out of you. But I can't desert you now. You tell me all the time I'm the only person you can open up to, and how much you hate your life right now. And you're the only one who takes my dreams seriously. But then again, you're always so negative about everything. I don't know. It's all really confusing. And you know what? I'm gonna end up feeling too bad to get rid of you, and I'm gonna spend all of highschool babysitting you. I wish you'd understand where I was coming from.
Love,
Mickey
P.S. You'd make a terrible director. Your screenplays are horrible.