I was having a hard time getting started when I was writing the other day, so I used a prompt as a warm up. I still had my work-in-progress on my mind, so the below is what I came up with.
I wanted you to be my story, but I couldn't quite fit you in.
At first you were a best friend, someone I could share my darkest secrets with. The person whom I could try to convince that B- was my hero. He saved R- and K-. He saved me. He made me feel warm and excited. I could come crying to you if I doubted his feelings for me. I could cry to you when I doubted my feelings for him. You were to be my sounding board, but I had a sister for that.
Then you could be my roommate. The woman who I let move into my house, paying rent, once my sister left. You would be conveniently absent the night of the shooting. You could observe my transformation. You could report on me to my sister, to my therapist. But the idea of you crowded my solitude. I needed to go a little nutty in my head. I would sleepovers from my sister. I also wouldn't always sleep at home.
The truth is, when I discovered I didn't need you, you became lost. It didn't matter that financially it made sense to have someone like you in my story. I could work around that, gloss over that, come up with something else. I needed to lose a person, and that person was you.
Goodbye friend. Goodbye roommate that never was. Maybe one day I will see you again. Maybe I'll meet you in another story, in the continuation of my life. But if I don't, it's OK. Because really, you were never here.