To you,
Looking back on it now, I don't know the exact moment when our friendship ended. There was no catastrophic event and no big, blowout fight. We never said a nasty word to one another or glared in hatred across the room. We simply let go of each other, forgetting the existence of any bond that we had previously shared. We went down our own paths, had our own friends, and led completely different lives. By the time when we graduated high school, we hadn't spoken in years. It wasn't out of aversion, but because we just weren't friends.
I don't know you. I don't follow you on social media and your phone number is long gone from my contact list. You might be in college or working, living in another state or in another country. My name never crosses your mind and I haven't thought of you in years. Then, I opened my sixth-grade portfolio, filled with all of the essays and the dedication letter that you helped me organize, making sure that I never forgot a name. It took me back to our sixth-grade class. I was sitting at the corner desk and you were to my right as we decorated our portfolios with stickers. I'm not sure that you'll ever read this or understand that this is about you, but I just want to say that I'm sorry. I'm so incredibly sorry.
I was one of your first friends when you transferred to our elementary school. Even though you never were adopted into my friend group, I still enjoyed sitting with you at lunchtime. I smile when I think back to our talks on the hill and the laughs that we shared as children. You were far from athletic, but you still stood in the sun and watched as I played box ball. Your friendship was true and sincere.
You sat next to me in our sixth-grade class, letting me grab onto you while our classroom filled with classmates we've never met. You were there through the good days and the bad days, sitting with me in our corner in the back of the classroom where we gossiped and passed notes. You never judged me for my strange sense of style and I never judged you for your failing grades in math. When I went through my first middle school breakup with a boy who I "dated" for five days, you told me that he was weird anyway and gave me the pink starburst. When your mother passed away, I let you cry on my shoulder, protecting you from anyone who didn't know the real cause of the tears. We were there for each other and I ruined it.
You were an outsider and I was terrified. You weren't accepted by the people who I hung out with and, although you didn't care, I did. I began spending more time with the group of girls who had EnV2s and who played on every sports team while you fell to the side, surrounding yourself with people who you could be yourself with. Our friendship slowly died as I abandoned you, talking to you less and eating lunch at a different table. As I conformed, our bond faded away until it was completely gone. It was almost like a trick of my imagination that it was ever there in the first place. You let me go willingly, with a secret understanding that it wasn't you, but me. You never confronted me or gave me a hard time when we stopped talking. You never grew bitter while I laughed alongside the people who badmouthed you. You never flinched when I let the rumors about you spread like wildfire. You never accused me when I refused to defend your name when it came out of someone's mouth. I turned my back on you and you never blamed me.
It's been seven years and I wish that I could take back what I did. I was a thoughtless kid following the social trends and desperately wanting to fit in. I should have respected you as a person, rather than turn a blind eye on all of the hateful things that they said. I was the stupid one and I'm so sorry. I truly lost out on the friendship that you had to offer, the nonjudgemental and loyal kind that's so impossible to find. I messed up. Wherever you are right now, I hope that it's somewhere where you want to be. Even though I don't who you've become, you deserve so much happiness. You were always the bigger person and you always will be.
Your name was listed in the dedication letter of my sixth grade portfolio under "Best Friends."
-Me
