Jennifer Pickrell

YA Writer

The one that (thankfully) got away

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Nine years ago this week I wrote “the letter.” 

Back when I wrote it, I never thought I’d forget the anger I felt at the moment, but things look a lot different when you’re 31 than when you’re 22.

We started off being pushed together by friends and when that didn’t work out, we settled into this weird, pseudo-friendship.

Long story short, we had a lot of mini spats that culminated in one major fight where things turned ugly.   He seemed to have kept a list of every “wrong” I’d done to him over the past year and a half and I publically called him out on the things I was pissed about.

It all ended when I wrote “the letter” and I’m not going to post the whole thing because there’s a lot of personal stuff in it, but here’s part of it:

December 12, 2001

No one has EVER made me feel more like a piece of shit than you have, but it’s my own fault for letting you get to me. And it kills me, it really does, that I let you get to me like this. Even when I can see right thru you, so clearly, I shove my head into the lion’s mouth over and over again.

And this is how it will always be and I fooled myself into thinking that we were friends…or anything even close. I took up for you so many times when everyone else was pissed off at you…yet I am the one you always seem to shit upon. And now I know why– b/c I take it– I keep my mouth shut and I let you tear into me…

For some idiotic reason, I didn’t want to retaliate…tell you how I really felt b/c I didn’t want you to hate me– not like it mattered– you had no shred of respect for me– you never did.

This on-again, off-again feud we have makes me sick– I should have ended it a long time ago but, up until now, it hasn’t been so glaringly obvious.

I despise how you make me feel– like I am incompetent and worthless and like I always have to work harder and harder to do something that pleases you. And why? I have NO fucking clue– obviously, I don’t like feeling this way– and I tell you this so that you can dismiss it, but that’s fine, b/c I’m thru…

I’m done being stressed over it, done apologizing, done with it all…

Honestly, I don’t want to talk to you ever again.

And it’s very hard for me to say that to you– but, it’s much, much harder for me to keep any semblance of a relationship with you.

Take care of yourself– I’m done tearing myself apart over what you think…


At the point I wrote the letter, I hated him more than I’d ever hated anyone in my life and I stooped to levels I never thought I would.  I’m not shoving all the blame onto him – I did my share of screwing up, too. 

We were both so angry that I basically had to write a letter instead of saying it face-to-face because I knew that would escalate into a screaming match.  And because I wanted him to know exactly how I felt and my written words have always come out better than my spoken.

I know this post is a little TMI, but the main reason I wrote it is because sometimes people are emotional poison to each other.

And what does poison do?  It eats away at you and makes you sick.

So if you have someone like that in your life, go ahead and rip the band-aid off because even though it hurts like hell at the time (and for a long time afterward), one day you’ll look back and know you did the right thing.


Author: Jennifer Pickrell

I write YA contemporary filled w/ romance, angst & family drama. Things I like: cats, snacks, baseball, green tea, taking pictures of trees & movies so bad, they’re good.

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