Dear old friend,
You have been blocked. Deleted. Ostracized from my feed.
I don’t want to write this letter, but I have to. For me to move on. I have to. I need to be free, so let me get the last word.
We met in High school. We were on the soccer team together, until you realized you have no redeemable athletic talents and dropped off. After your short lived soccer career, you started smoking weed with all the kids who listened to Pink Floyd. I remember for the longest time we had you convinced that Pink Floyd was a person. You believed it.
I wasn’t popular. Neither were you. But I made an effort to be your friend. When we had to partner up in Mr. Blum’s fourth period Civics class, you were always the first one at my desk. “Yo man, wanna be partners?” Sure. Lets be partners. I’ll do all the work, again, and you’ll distract me as you try out different conversational topics scoping the field to see if we relate on any level. We don’t.
One day, you brought up Star Wars. You told me you had the new Battlefront on your desktop. I was surprised, I didn’t think you were actually sort of cool. But you were. I mistook you, and for that I apologize. Later that night we hung out, and played multiplayer. We started having Star Wars marathons where we would watch the entire series through the night. Long nights and excessive dialogues concerning the Death Star lead to a lasting friendship. We procured a name for ourselves. We were the dweebs, but we didn’t care, it was us against the world. You gave me some of the most stimulating years of my life. I am grateful for that.
Then we went our separate ways off to college. You stayed in state, I went to a liberal school in Massachusetts. We fell off each others maps. By the end of Freshman year, we had different lives. Every now and then I would see your posts on Facebook, sometimes I would like them. It was good to see you doing well.
Then last week, you made a surprise appearance into my life. I was en route to the new Star Wars movie. I was sitting passenger with a bunch of friends in a new Ford. Ironic we were driving in a Ford, to a movie with Ford in it.
My phone binged. I checked it. I saw your face in the little messenger circle. For a moment I was excited. I haven’t heard from you in years. But, before I touched your beautiful little face in that little circle, I hesitated. I had a bad feeling that this would be the end. I was right. After seeing your message which read: “Yo BROOOO *insert spoiler here*”…There was a pause. The world stopped. Time was stagnant. I put my phone into my pocket, and also, my heart. I knew our friendship was over.
You ruined the only good thing that has come into my life in years. The famed Philosopher Jeremy Bentham measures joy and sadness in increments of Utility. One weight of happiness equals one Util, and sadness is scaled in negative Utils. The Utils I anticipated to receive from this movie were quantitatively equivalent to the joy of giving birth to a child. And you stole the experience from my hands. For that, I can never forgive you.
Since then, things have been getting better. I keep thinking about it, but I need you to know that I’m moving on. I’m leaving it in the past, I’m starting a new life for myself. I started participating in Yoga, and this new thing called Transcendental Meditation. I hear Jerry Seinfeld does it.
So please old friend, the only request I beseech is that you stay away from my life. Stay away from my family, my friends, etc. I have nothing to offer you, and you have nothing to offer me.