Rent-Free

A non-fiction piece written for a Creative Writing course - October 2022

“People come into your life for longer periods of time than others, sometimes making themselves right at home only to leave, but each will teach you a lesson.” My mom has repeated that mantra to me on several occasions when I often find myself seeking her guidance. As I descend into adulthood and finish up my final year of college, I’ve frequently found myself reflecting on those who are no longer with me. Maybe I’m reveling in the last bits of my childhood or longing for simpler times, but it’s doubtful I’m actually missing the people in mind. I’ve caught myself almost pressing send on an empty message to those who’ve been lingering in my mind longer than they should. This is an open letter to those individuals still trespassing in my head - hopefully working as an eviction notice. 

To the friendship I thought would last forever,

I still think of you when I hear Doja Cat. It’s been a year since I’ve seen you, had a real conversation. I wish I could tell you why I cut off communication and stopped reaching out. I still find myself reaching for the phone when something goes wrong, or when I’ve made a breakthrough, fiercely typing your nickname in my phone, like muscle memory. I long to hear your laugh when I find something moronic online or look through the same childhood memories we howled at over Facetime. I miss your advice, your silliness, and your daily witty remarks on anything under the sun. 

It was the closest I’ve ever felt to love at first sight, making me believe in platonic soulmates. It was the summer prior to 9th grade, and change was on the horizon. 400 some miles apart, but it didn’t matter – we knew little would stop us from keeping in touch. We were right. I counted down the days each year til we would meet again, and you did the same. We knew each other better than any other, words not escaping our mouths to understand what the other knew. You calmed me down when I inevitably and often worked myself up, and took me down a notch when I needed it. You were so much smarter than me, often challenging what we referred to as ‘Gracieworld.’ When reunited each season, briefly all was well in the world – I was with my person and nothing could trump the feeling. 

That last summer is when things began to change. The days swelled with incessant complaining and deliberate accusatory language despite awareness of the situation and persistent empty apologies. The last visit ended with a sigh of relief when I dropped you off at the airport, much less without a thank you. I needed a break. I didn’t believe the break would last a year. Guilt consumes me when you cross my mind, albeit it doesn’t happen much; Remember when we didn’t believe we could live without each other? I still think of you when I hear Doja Cat. 

The Cameran to my Ferris: 

My memory is fuzzy, but I can clearly recall. I’ll remind you, I’m sure you’ve buried it in your mind by now, your memory was always selective that way. That night, Freshman year, I’d returned to the dorm late one Saturday night, soaking up the rum with nothing but Cheeto puffs in a room right down the hall from my own. You call, and my heart flutters, I haven’t heard from you in a few days. You’re drunk, you repeat, and you wished you’d told me how you felt long ago, how deeply you feel. I stood in my bathroom speechless, after all, you were still with her at the time. Still attempting long distance. I laugh at it now. You’d told me that I was the greatest thing to happen to you, your best friend, you’d always wanted it to be us. I woke up early Sunday morning in a haze, wishing it had been a dream. I call you, no answer. Five more times and twelve texts - radio silence. ‘Best friend,’ I chuckled, ‘yeah right. I vacuumed the carpet four times that afternoon, trying to rid myself of the feeling and make sense of your words. This stillness persists for weeks. Months went by and you showed up at my dorm room and looked at me for too long to be just friends. We never talk about it again.

But then she left you, and you were destroyed. On Valentine’s day, my dad drives me three hours through the snow to take care of you, I’m worried day and night. I’m back at school, happy and acclimated. At the dining hall with my friends one night, you call shrieking into my ear about the night you confessed your love and how it was all a dumb fantasy, meant nothing to you, and life is meaningless without her. I want to punish myself for keeping in touch but I pitied you. The criticizing began soon after, with neediness, mansplaining, and deep disrespect. The friendliest face I had known soon became shadowed and reminiscent of a creep. How to mourn a person who is still alive?

I still remember the smell of your old Nissan, our phone calls deep into the night, and your sweet face smiling back at me in math class sophomore year. I remember singing in your car at the top of our lungs, and the awkward hugs you gave – you were so much taller than me. I remember how deeply you loved those around you and how passionate you were about making the world a better place. I don’t hope to rid myself of you forever, but you’ve tainted my favorite movie. 

To the young girl:

Each day I wish to make you proud. You’ve been through so much. Grief, heartbreak, acceptance, and growth. I think of you, your last semester of high school, and want to give you the tightest hug, and remind you that it’ll all be alright, just like Kacey Musgraves told you. You have so much love to give, and so much more to learn. There are times when my face scrunches up at the very thought of you. Your big feelings have led you to even bigger reactions over the years, leaving me cringing. Sometimes I feel like you were too mature for your age, on others you were lightyears behind. I owe you a thank you. Without you, I wouldn’t have gotten where I am today. You are the creation of a universe made from thousands of choices and forks in the road. There have been times you’ve felt on top of the world. Drives home in solitude, late at night blasting music with the windows down whilst hot tears stream down your face out of pure gratitude to be alive. Other times when you feel completely crushed by the weight of a thousand planets, used to a description melodramatic and unrealistic. At the end of the day, you’re you, even when you haven’t felt as such. The world is lucky to have you, and so am I. 

This letter might as well be a book. I’ve got grievances to air and hundreds of new friends to make. An old friend and I used to describe my life as a movie. Each character showed their true colors within the span of a storyline, each adventure more picturesque than the next. Each has taught me invaluable lessons about life, love, friendship, and the integrity of my sense of self. And for that, I could not be more grateful.