Dear ******,
It's been so long since I've seen you, I don't know if you'd recognize the person I've become. Sometimes I wonder if you'd been here through the last few years, would I be where I am now? Would the hurt have been less? Or would it be more?
I saw you once at a baseball game. And I kind of wanted to throw up. And I kind of wanted to call your name. Instead, I put on a baseball cap and stared at the floor until you were gone because I couldn't breathe. So much of who I used to be was tied up in you. So much of what I imagined my future would look like was molded around you. It's strange, to me at least, to pull apart that future. To strip all of my plans down and separate out the reality from the dream. It's strange, even still, to have to rip you out like a weed. It's odd to me that even now, you were in my life longer than you've been out. That when I look at my collection of years on this earth, I've still spent more of them at your side than by myself. But the clock is ticking and the time is counting down. Soon, I'll be more of myself and less of you. That's odd to me too. That one day soon I'll have lived without you longer than I did with you. It's a sadder thought than I'd imagined it might be.
I normally have a point to these letters but I fear I don't know what I'm trying to say but that never mattered to you. You always let me talk without needing a big reason. That's what we did for each other. That's what best friends do. Looking back on it now, I don't know that we ever stood a chance. Things seemed poised to fall apart one way or another. And while I miss the joy we had when we were together, I don't really miss you. But I do miss having someone who knew me as well as you did. I've tried in your absence to open up to other people, but the thing I had with you is something I don't think I'll ever get back. It's something I don't think I can do again. Not after losing you. Not after growing up.
Sometimes, when I have really bad days, I think of you. And I almost want to call. Sometimes, when I have really good days, you cross my mind. And I think of how you would've celebrated with me back then. But the reality is that I don't have a number to call. And I don't actually want one. I guess my nostalgia just creeps in and stabs me every once in a while. And I guess that's what I wonder about you: do you ever just think about me? Even for a second?
I'm old enough now to know that we're both healthier when our worlds don't intersect. I'm okay with that now. It's just moments like these when I feel like I'm standing on a mountain looking down at where I've been and out at where I'm going that I think of you. And I hope that even if it's only for a second, sometimes, you think of me too.
-M
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