I know you don’t want to hear from me now, but I am. I’m sorry for the harsh conclusions I jumped to. My 14-year-old self, with her raw sense of justice, turned on you in an instant. We were both still blooming and had emotions churning inside of us that we didn’t understand.
I know this now.
What I didn’t know back then was that as soon as a year later, I would regret everything and ache for your friendship again. That I would see you walking down the expansive hall of our childhood church with your head down, that same hall we used to run down together as children, and I would try and greet you, but you either didn’t hear me or simply didn’t want to.
Maybe it’s my innate ability to jump to conclusions and see things that aren’t there anymore, but I can tell I hurt you. Looking at the patterns back then and your sharpness towards me, I know I did. And even now, when I refollow you on Instagram as a sort of 21st-century white flag, I can almost feel the stale bitterness seeping through the screen as you ignore it. Ignore me. It still stings.
A part of me still believes our friendship was supposed to last. The voice of logic in my mind says no, that it was all for the best, but still. It wasn’t perfect, but you were a significant part of my life, and when these relationships end abruptly and without any closure, it can be scarring. I know it was for me. Sometimes I wish it was for you, but I’m not so sure anymore.
What I do know is that my decisions back then would haunt me for years to come.
You plague my dreams, you know. It’s almost like my subconscious is punishing me, which is ironic because, in my hazy memory, our falling out all started with a dream. Or maybe it’s me just longing for a simpler time, and you were a big part of that chapter in my life. Either way, you are a frequent guest.
Despite everything, I do want to say thank you.
For the countless afternoons we spent together, throwing pink petals around in my front yard and all of the sleepovers and beach trips. The innumerable times you made me watch you play video games and I would do it, even when annoyed. I wouldn’t mind it so much now. Or for the time you caught me crying after school because another friend said something hurtful to me. Your concern still means everything to me.
I hope this letter reaches you somehow. And if it does, I want you to know that I hope you’re doing well. I really, genuinely do. Even after all of these years, you still hold a special place in my heart. I hope you are thriving, and that you find what you’re looking for. And if you ever want to catch up, I’m always here.