I have to go to your funeral today. I don’t even want to go, but everyone’s going to be there and they’re all going to cry over you. You’re on the news, did you know that? The reporters keep calling it a great tragedy. I bet they’re even going to be there today. Jenny R. and Jenny H. have been crying non-stop since you died, and you just know they’re going to be all waterproof mascara dressed in black bullshit today.
Everyone keeps asking me if I’m okay, and I have to lie and say that I am. Because that’s what you do when you’re the best friend. It’s what you would have had to do. But I’m not okay. You ruined everything, Cait, and I’m never going to forgive you.
You were always a copycat. Always. You couldn’t let me have anything for myself. It always had to be a competition, which was complete BS! You were already better than me. You were prettier and smarter and more popular. But you still couldn’t let me have anything. You already had everything. EVERYTHING!
You were already skinny, but when I started losing weight, you just had to show off. You always had to be better than me. I fucking hated that.
You know what the worst part is? They’re going to turn you into some kind of saint now. There’s going to be two pages about you in the yearbook, at least. Like all of a sudden everyone loved you. Like you weren’t a bitch to 90% of them. Like they didn’t all call you a slut in the bathroom. Just because you died. Like that changes anything.
Just so you know, the day after you died, Brian Fischer kissed me. He told me that he’d always liked me, but everyone knew that you liked him so he couldn’t say anything. You even had to keep Brian from me.
I’m going to tell you a secret, Cait. This is the last secret I’ll ever tell you, and for once, I know you won’t tell anyone else. Not even Jenny R. Here it is: It was supposed to be me. I was supposed to die and make everyone love me. I was going to be the girl in the yearbook with the two-page spread. I wanted it to be me. I wanted to have something that you could never have, but you took that from me, too. You’re such a bitch. Even dead you’re a bitch.
You were already skinny. You didn’t need to lose any weight. But you had to make sure that you lost five more pounds than me. So your heart fails and I’m still fat. How is that fair?
I hate you, Caitlin. I really hate you. But I fucking miss you, too.