I hope this email reaches you. You've blocked me on IG and WhatsApp, and I don't blame you. I know you don't check this, but I had to try to speak to you.
What can I say?
I have been selfish. Self-obsessed. I'm not going to lie. I was so angry at what you said in Norris Lake. I hated you for doing it in front of everyone else. But maybe it was the wake-up call I needed. It made me look at myself clearly.
I reread every message I sent you. Every diary entry. I wanted it to vindicate me - to prove you wrong. But the more I read, the less I wanted to.
You were right. I've only thought about myself for months. Not you, or my parents, or Miss Constance, or Finch, or James, or Elodie. Or anyone.
I'm going to work on that. I promise. I've spent so long crafting myself into the perfect Oxford application, that I've forgotten to become a good human being. And surely, in the end, that's more important?
I really am so sorry that you've been so unhappy, and in part that I was the reason. I can't apologise enough for that.
I won't apologise for being happy. As my friend, you should have asked for my help and called me out for not treating you the way you deserved to be treated. And as your friend, I should have offered it. You tried to rip away everything I've grown to love away from me, and for that, I am still finding it hard to forgive you. I'm trying though.
We can't go back to how we were. We both hurt each other and said things we can never take back. Or didn't say things we should have. We both did the wrong things. Crossed lines that can never be uncrossed. Now all we can do is move forward and use what we did wrong to become better people.
You need to tell your parents how you are feeling. Tell them that they are being selfish and that it is making you ill. Because you are ill. Mummy rang Sister McMahon last night. She'll be expecting you in the San when you get back to school. Lyds has already said that she will go with you.
For my part, I'm going to stop thinking about myself for a bit and start thinking of others. I've already told Miss Constance that I'll help with the Sunday afternoon and Thursday evening classes. And I've signed myself up to volunteer at the church food bank with Elodie each month. I know that these don't cancel out my selfishness before, but I'm going to try. That's all I can do.
I hope that you find the help you need. And even though I know you might not want me right now, I'll always be here for you.
YOU ARE READING
Under Tennessee SkiesTeen Fiction
When she moves from England to the small town of Hopton Hills, Tennessee, Martha Heysham finds both her dream of Oxford University and her heart at risk from her new neighbours, the Whittingham boys. **** Martha Heysham hates Tennessee. The sticky h...