I’ve been praising myself for this year being my year; the clichéd year of me, but half of it is a lie. I’m not as happy go lucky as all these people might think because I’m acting. Half of the time, I’m doing what I am now and just laying here in bed, looking through old photos and tearing up when you see that one person who isn’t in your life anymore. I keep throwing myself into my schoolwork and these groups to keep myself occupied. I miss my best friend and he’ll say that we can’t be close because too much has happened and things aren’t the same anymore; no shit. Things aren’t the fucking same anymore because too much of a good thing can ruin everything. You can lose your best friend because according to everyone else, you didn’t fight hard enough for them, but if you fight too hard then you push them away. I walked through the hallway where I lived for the past two years and felt a wave of anxiety crash down on me because the door was open and I could handle even seeing it closed. I walked past him on the sidewalk once and kept my head down and moving forward because I couldn’t make eye contact. He’s the only person I’ve told that I have situational depression, but I guess you all know now. I’ve done countless things for one person and I get nothing in return or even just no acknowledgement. I have trust issues and I opened myself up enough and I gained another brother, but now it’s just like the rest of my family. I look at these pictures and I cry because I miss the people we were just a year ago. We took a road trip and to and from this place, we sang Twenty One Pilots to each other. His family took me to dinner. And it’s all over because something went wrong between us. I didn’t fight to live with him. He didn’t think I cared enough. We both said things behinds each other’s backs. Before I left, I wrote a letter and left a blue lightsaber because that’s his favorite color. This summer, I sent a birthday card with a gift card in it and didn’t even get an obligatory thank you. What happened to sitting in the same room playing Battlefront together? Or watching horror movies every night? I keep thinking that I’ll gain the courage, the balls, to come and talk to you, to get closure, but I don’t think I’ll ever be man enough.