Skip to content ↓
MIT blogger Cami M. '23

to the skeletons in my closet by Cami M. '23

an open letter to you

tw suicide mention and angst!!

to the skeletons in my closet,

it’s taken me days to even get started on this01 hello cami here. this is? a different kind of blog. ranty blog? the you is directed at certain people in my life and instead of writing a blog that explains it step by step i figured id just cut to the part that matters and you can put together the pieces or assumptions or what it may be. this was just a therapeutic release because this has been eating at me for a couple of days now and what better to rid yourself of your demons than to write them away. because there is such an overwhelming feeling of fear that paralyzes my fingers and numbs my mind, making it impossible to type.

i’ve tried not to mention you here too often, out of fear you think you have some kind of tether or control on me, that your presence lingers just a bit too long (it does, sometimes).

i wanted to carve mit into my space, into a place separate from the past, yet you still find ways to creep back.

it’s funny how the triggers manifest themselves. there are blatant ones — photos of us, well. what would have been us had i not been cropped out. (sorry, that came out more bitter than i meant. it’s fine. i’m fine.)

other times it’s just hearing a song that reminds me of you. this time it was headfirst slide into cooperstown on a bad bet.

little songs like these will creep into my every day and make it harder to breathe harder to write harder to think. my life is still hard because of what you did. my life is still difficult, even though i am well down the path of healing, four years later.

there’s a part of me that is still so, so bitter that you get to move on with your life without any accountability. it felt at times that no one ever felt the weight of what i went through, and it feels whiny to say but i wish i had been just a little more recognized. everyone chalked it up to me losing a couple of friends, but i don’t think people understood that i thought we were going to be friends for life. i thought this was it. i thought you were going to be my maid of honor at my wedding, i thought we’d go on trips during our college spring and winter breaks, i thought we were going to grow old and live in the same neighborhood and raise our kids and our dogs and our families all close to each other because that’s what we always said. losing my friends was honestly one of the worst pains i’ve ever gone through.

i remember i used to wish the meanest and worst things my bitter brain could conjure up onto you. there was some part of me that felt good when you got rejected by your dream school (sorry). that i had gotten into mit, that i was going to make something out of myself once i got out of here. that i would make you feel sorry for ever abandoning me like that. mit was my refresh, my restart, but it was also my chance to continue to be spiteful. i wanted you to see just how successful i could be, with or without you. everything i used to do felt like a giant “fuck you” to you. every win, every achievement, every award. it was a pleasing “i don’t need you to be successful.” and with every accolade i added to my list i couldn’t help but hope that you saw them, too, and you sat in envy.

but as i listen to this song, and as my eye catches photos i have memories of but no part in, i no longer feel bitter.

i was angry, trust me i was. but now all i feel is sad. a tinge of regret? not necessarily. just sad. i don’t miss you. i don’t need you, god, the last thing i need is you. but i think i am nostalgic for the memories. i miss late night drives and karaokes and being 16 and feeling invincible. i miss late night skype calls as we crammed for orgo. i miss summers at boeing and 2am dennys trips.

there’s a part of me that wonders if you think like this. do you think of me like this? do you feel like this every time you crop my photo out? or every time someone mentions my name, my successes, my life that i’ve built almost to spite you?

i’ve grown out of this, i think. there’s some part of myself that still jokingly believes that you do check in on me, seeing just how much i’ve accomplished despite being left alone.

i’ve rewritten this over and over in my head. every time, i want to lash out and make some snarky comment but i’ve been trying to be a better person about that. genuinely.

the friends i have now are like night and day in comparison to the past. they know how to deal with issues. we talk things out when things go wrong instead of shutting down and bolting. we do this thing where we hotseat each other in front of everyone to air out grievances and resolve problems. i think we could’ve benefited from it. mit genuinely was the best thing that could’ve happened to me.

my friends radiate kindness and intelligence and love in a way i have never experienced before. with them, i feel safe.

i remember coming into mit being so afraid i would lose over friends over how i performed in school because of our friendship. i think i should be more fair to you since our high school was a breeding ground for academic toxicity, so it wasn’t entirely your fault — i just wish that hadn’t played a factor in everything. i became paranoid of every little thing. were they talking behind my back again? or are they hanging out without me? did they lie about where they’re going, just like before?

and this is where the anger comes back because it was you that made me like this, that made me live with this trauma and fear and paranoia. i can never have a normal friendship again because i am constantly living in fear that they’re all plotting to leave me, to abandon me in the dust.

and i resent you, because now my friends have to accommodate for my traumas. they message me quietly. “hey cami i just want to check that youre okay if x and y go out without you to this” or “hey cam we promise we’re not like them. we are your friends.”

they give me these little reassurances that they don’t have to give at all if i were just normal, if i had just had a normal experience.

i am so endlessly lucky that i have friends now who are willing to help me, step by step, through this process. even four years later i still find it hard. trust me, it’s easier than before, but there are still moments where bits of you shine in. where you wrap you hands around my throat and make me feel nauseous all over again. where i start to panic and look around at the people behind me and make sure none of them are going to backstab me. i find myself keeping a backlog of people i can reach out to in case my friend group suddenly explodes and blows up. constantly looking for escape routes.

i remember what it felt like that year, as i would walk around our high school campus feeling the urge to vomit and cry every time i saw one of you. my safe spaces in school no longer were safe spaces if you were there. i’d hide out in empty classrooms during lunch since i knew you wouldn’t be there. i’d wait until you left rooms before i’d say hi to my favorite teachers. it breaks my heart for my 17 year old self, having to tiptoe in the places she used to find comfort in.

i know you didn’t do it on purpose. i know that it was all in my head and that we could’ve occupied the same spaces. but i was just so afraid of being around you, it didn’t feel like an option.

so why now? why do i write this now, four years after the fact?

well it’s now happening again, but in a different flavor. it’s not as messy or as angry; it’s more peaceful.

i remember saying “oh we’ve just out grown each other”, but someone quickly corrected me and said “no, i don’t think you are out growing each other. i think you’re simply growing in different directions.”

and i think that is the difference here, why this loss of friendship now feels so different from our loss of friendship. our loss was violent. it was angry and we didn’t communicate. there was a residual grime that left bitterness on my tongue.

but here, i understand that sometimes people become different people over the months or years.

in these four years, i’ve changed, too. i know how to be a better friend. i know how to pick and choose my friends. i know what real friends look like. i know i’m capable of platonic love, that there is not a part of me that is destined to be friendless; i just happened to meet the wrong people. but i now also know how to lose friends with grace.

in a way, i am thankful for you ending our friendship so abruptly because you showed me all the ways not to do it.

you have prepared me for this loss and i will treat it with grace and compassion. i will understand that people grow in different directions, and it is our time to find other experiences and paths.


i will never end up like him

behind my back i already am

keep a calendar this way

you will always know

  1. hello cami here. this is? a different kind of blog. ranty blog? the you is directed at certain people in my life and instead of writing a blog that explains it step by step i figured id just cut to the part that matters and you can put together the pieces or assumptions or what it may be. this was just a therapeutic release because this has been eating at me for a couple of days now and what better to rid yourself of your demons than to write them away. back to text