Dear Donna,
A long time ago you wrote me a beautiful letter. That was filled with so much love and friendship. I cherish that letter. It means much to me. The day we met I had just dumped my boyfriend, and you felt sorry for me. I don't blame you. Most people only become my friend because they feel sorry for me. It's been nearly a year since the Doctor took us to the happy planet. You've lost your husband, but since found a new one. You don't have time for me anymore. And I understand. No one really does. No one ever really has. It's been months. Once again, I've stopped taking the potion to help my depression. Not that it changed anything anyway. All we usually do is fight when we really talk.
I'm even more empty than last time we were face to face. Everything just... hurts. Not that you'd really know. I don't like to talk about it. No one really cares when I do. I talk about my pain to others and all they really do is laugh. You did that too. It's made it hard to find someone to trust. To tell all my secrets to. Someone who can tell when I'm hurting.
I've found another friend. Her name is Angelica. She doesn't live near me by any means, and I haven't met her face to face. But she means the world to me. She helps me when I'm feeling empty, and shows me she cares.
I fell in love last year. Oh so deeply in love. With a girl. Her name, Eliza. She was so beautiful, and similar to me. We were depressed together, but we made each other happy. She cared for me and I cared for her. Until recently, she ripped my heart out, and stomped on it. Then proceeded to, a few months later, tell me she still loved me. It hurts. But all you did was laugh when I told you.
What you don't know, is you're one of the main reasons I hurt anymore. You avoid me like the plague, and barely talk to me. You say terrible things about me when you're upset with me.
My new friends are very supportive. They're nice. They take me to the happy planet every once in a while and we have a wonderful time. They never really show that they care, but they make me laugh and smile.
I go to the art gallery sometimes. Usually just to look at the art. I don't put pictures in there as often as I used to. I don't think it would benefit me too. It doesn't change the empty, hurting feeling.
Everything just kinda hurts nowadays. I don't feel that you're as good of a friend as you used to be. You recently told me that you wouldn't be a part of my wedding if I married Eliza, or any girl for that matter. You would only show up. The things you say to me now don't show the love and adoration you have for me. You've called me rude, disgraceful and petty. You tell me I'm immature and childish for feeling broken and not excited when something wonderful happens.
Angelica is like me. Broken. Hurting. But we find comfort in each other. We find love in a man as well, who is too old for both of us. He's a big part of our lives, but doesn't know we exist. His name, Daveed. He makes music and makes us both so happy. More happy than friends ever could.
She talks to me more often than you do. And I can only hope that our friendship lasts. You act like you don't want me anymore. Or care for me, for that matter. I wouldn't expect you too. Who would want to care for someone so broken and empty. Angelica is like you were when we first became friends. We were close. Oh so close.
I'm sorry that I've disappointed you and made you not care anymore. Im sorry that I'm not worth your time or your affection.
Sincerely,
Juliet.
