At the end of the tone, please record your message.

Hey I know we haven’t talked in a year, or is it two? I don’t even know anymore. I just wanted to call because, well, our favorite television show is ending. As stupid as that may sound, it has been making me reflect on what our friendship was. I don’t know why I decided to pick up the phone and share the inner workings of my mind with you, but I did.

We drove two towns over to get ice cream on an ordinary weekend in the spring two years ago; there was still a chill left in the air from the winter that had passed. Of all days to get a frozen treat this was not a prime choice. The trees throughout downtown were fairly bare, the air was still. Under a time constraint, you spoon fed me while I drove. To others, this day would seem insignificant but to me it’s one that I go back to often.

We once all made matching shirts commemorating our favorite t.v. characters from the show that’s now ending. You and I were the stars: two best friends that would die for each other. That shirt remains in my closet, untouched for the last year just like the photos that once hung on my walls. I put these memories away knowing that I am not strong enough to leave them behind. As this show comes to an end, I reflect on what was. You were my ride or die; the two characters showed the same amount of dedication to each other as we did. I couldn’t imagine life without you. My other half. My right hand. My best friend. And here I am, about two years later both missing and appreciating our time together as each other’s long lost siblings.

Memories of you linger in the air like the scent of freshly made coffee. Of all friends, this had to happen to you and I. On one end I think time got to us. Separated by a year and two different sets of goals. I no longer blame you. I no longer feel my eyes burn when I think back to those times. Saying that I’ve accepted it is a long shot but I’m coming to terms with it. I know that if I was in a moment of nostalgia and the chance arose, maybe I would say “Let’s try this again.” Deep down I know that I couldn’t do it; my trust towards you has been demolished like a sand castle swept up by the waves. Whenever I catch myself beginning to type that possibly rekindling message, I close my eyes and remember how it felt when you locked me out; I owe too much to myself to risk that happening again.

You were a chapter in my book that I am not ashamed of. I loved you more than I have loved most friends throughout my life. I accepted your olive branch; it meant more to me than you’ll ever know. If I wouldn’t have gotten that message I would still be sitting on your curbside waiting for you to let me back in. I may have had closure but that doesn’t heal all wounds. I finally feel myself moving on from what was; isn’t it ironic that the one who forced me into the unknown alone without a map gave me a compass to help find my way?

I hope you’re doing okay. I hope you’ve found your family, your ride or die, but just know it’ll never compare to the Alpha pack.

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