When I rant
About someone
I typically only feel anger.
But this time was different.
When I ranted about you,
I felt something deeper.
I felt naive.
I felt pain.
I felt hatred.

We were best friends since kindergarden
And maybe that was not a good enough
Reason to give me the closure I need
Or at least six weeks’ notice
Before cutting me out of your perfect life,
But what about my feelings?
They’re rarely spoken about,
But I do in fact have them.
Are they irrelevant to you?

The division between us was so clear,
That I didn’t even need my glasses
To see it.
But unfortunately,
I chose to be ignorant.
I let you lead me on
Because I trusted you.
You were someone I knew
And you were someone I opened up to
About things that made me feel vulnerable.
At one point,
We got through things together,
So I never doubted for a second
That we would be best friends forever.
Until you took a knife,
That I would have given you myself,
And stabbed me in the back.
I felt naive because I expected
To be backstabbed even less than Caesar did.
I felt naive because instead of
Saying “Et tu Brute,”
I took the knife out and gave it back to you,
So you could use it again.

I knew I was never your first choice
And then I accepted that I was not
Your second or third choice either.
But what I didn’t know was that
I wasn’t worthy of your time whatsoever.
Why did you leave?
Was it because I couldn’t keep up
With the latest trends?
Was it because I valued my happiness
Over my social status?
Was it because I didn't conform
To your expectations?
The thought of those being
The reasons for your departure
Is painful.
The thought of being deemed
Not good enough
Hurts me.

Now looking back on
Everything that has happened,
I urge myself to forgive
And sometimes to forget.
Yet I can't do it.
Maybe I'm not capable.
Maybe I still feel too naive
And hurt to forgive right now.
Maybe it's a mixture of all three.
Or maybe I cannot forgive you
Because I feel hatred.
I try to keep my composure
So maybe you can't see
That I am angry.
I never got closure.
I never got the blowout fight
Scene played out in movies.
I never got to say everything
I've been holding in.
So every time I think of you
And all that you have done,
I feel hatred.

That is, until now.
Take this poem
As my resignation letter.
I, Jenna,
Am finally
And officially
resigning from
The position of your
Best friend.
No longer will I hold
Onto the tiny bit of false
Hope that things will
Go back to what they
Once were.
No longer will I

Worry about whether 

Or not I should talk
To you.
No longer will I
Feel guilty about
Things I've done or
Should have done.
This is my resignation letter.
My final goodbye.
The closure I never got.
Whatever you call it.
However you spin it.
I don't care
Because I just ranted
About you 
And I don't feel naive.
I don't feel pain
And I don't feel hatred.
I just ranted about you
And the only
Thing I feel,
Is happy.