I miss you.
Though I may be bitter and even downright cruel, if only in my thoughts, I have learned that I am not completely unforgiving. I can’t pinpoint a time when I knew I had forgiven you, but it was a long time after I had left and yet an even longer time before writing this. But, despite letting go of my jaded hate, I have not let go of my pride, which is why I never told you, never responded, never reached out.
I miss you.
I miss talking to you about boys. I have a boyfriend now that you would think is cute, and I’d like to think you’d be happy for me, even just a little bit. I don’t know if you have a boyfriend. I lost track after I unfriended you on Facebook. I never had the nerve to block you, though. I’ve also never had the nerve to friend you again.
I miss you.
I miss talking to you about music. Do you smile every time you hear “Hotline Bling” or cringe a little? I smile. I think you would too. Do you still watch “Degrassi” or are you like me and can’t muster the heart to watch it again without my best friend?
I miss you.
I miss how we used to be able to pick out each other’s clothes over the phone, without even looking in the other’s closet because we just knew each other that well. You’ve never even seen the grey sweatshirt or the tan boots I’m wearing now. We’ve only seen each other once in person since I left. That was the first time you’d seen me without braces.
I miss you.
I miss how close we used to be and how alike. Have you read the books I have and seen their movie counterparts? People never accidentally call me by your name anymore. I’m sure they never call you by mine.
I miss you.
I miss the videos we made and the nicknames we gave to other people, so no one would know who or what we were talking about. I miss the late nights in my old room, laughing, watching YouTube videos of cheerleading fails, and prank calling our friends using a Dr. Phil sound board. I miss laying on my trampoline, talking about God and all of the philosophy that no one understood but us. We were always in sync.
I miss you.
I miss the long, hot summers in my pool or in your room — it never mattered whose house we were at, they were so close. I even miss the summer before it ended, before I left. Where I held on so tightly to our friendship even as I saw it crumbling. I think we could have lasted had we both put in more effort. But you were preoccupied and I got tired of caring.
I miss you.
I’m still tired of caring about what happened to us and pretending it’s all your fault. We all react to change in different ways. I shut off, and you got scared. I wouldn’t open up enough to speak, and you were afraid I didn’t want to. It’s funny how much you expect of people, when you think that you’re the only one who’s hurting.
I miss you.
I think about texting you, but I don’t. You are the one person I have lost that I can’t quite get over. Maybe it’s because we never had closure and maybe that’s all I need. Maybe we’re too different now, too bitter and hurt by the people we used to be. Or maybe we’ve grown out of the friendship we used to have like we’ve grown out of the open-ended fight that ruined it. Maybe you’re over it. Maybe I am, too.
I miss you.
But I haven’t told you. Because I’m scared that you just don’t care anymore. That you don’t think about it ever, at all. Because this is all still some stupid fight and I don’t want you to win. But maybe the fight is over and neither of us won and both of us won. Because we both have lives, good ones (I hope), but we still don’t have a relationship, and we never got our closure; I still don’t know which is more important. So here’s the letter I’ll never send, but that just might reach you anyways. I still cannot swallow my pride and reach out to you, but this is me hiding the pill in applesauce and hoping that maybe you’ll read it and maybe you’ll think of me. Maybe it will be the first time in years or just the first time that day. But mostly I hope for this:
That you miss me the way I miss you.
