An Open Letter To The Person I Loved And Lost

To the person I loved and lost,

I couldn’t figure out how to tell you this with my words, so I’m gonna do it the way I know best: writing.

I want to ask you how you are. How you really are. I wanna tell your mom happy belated birthday and pet your dogs. I want to give you back the shirt I borrowed that day after we came home from the lake, but I don’t because it’s my favorite and it reminds me of you.

I want to hear what your friend from home has to say about last weekend, and I want to tell you about the crazy thing I saw on my drive home from school. I wish I could still rush home to tell you this kind of stuff.

I want to sing to Taylor Swift in the car with you. I want to laugh about the fact that her one song sounds like it’s saying “gotta lonely Starbucks lover.” I want to tell you why it scares me to sing in the car these days. I want you to at least pretend to understand like you used to.

I want to tell you that I ripped my favorite jeans and I got a new lipstick. I want to gossip with you. I want to tell you all the boring things you used to listen to me talk about, like the mark on my leg or my favorite pen that just ran out of ink.

I want to borrow clothes from each other. And do each other’s hair like we used to. I want to tell you that my shirt looks amazing on you, and you should just keep it because “I never wear it anyways.”

I want to go for ice cream in our sweatpants or stay up watching scary movies until 3 a.m. Or both.

I want to hear about your siblings and your crazy uncle who visited last weekend. I want to listen to the same story you always tell about your cousins from out of town, and I want to laugh when you get to the good part.

I want to get dressed up and go out. I want to dance to that song that always makes us think of each other. And I want to have a sleepover when we get home with McDonald’s.

I want to sit down and talk about all the late nights we had together or our adventures, our old best friends and our new ones. I want to sit down with you and talk about all the hours and hours and hours we spent sitting and talking. Or the hours we spent together in silence. Because I just liked to be around you.

I want to.

But I can’t.

I loved you. We did everything together. I thought you were going to be in my life forever.

I thought we would have a wine and cheese night when we’re 30 and tell our kids about our lives.

I thought you were going to be in my wedding someday and see me get my first real job. I thought we could take each other for rides in our G Wagons and still sing to Taylor Swift. I thought I was going to miss you every time you were gone for a while, and I thought I was going to be excited to see you when you got back.

But things are different now.

You’re gone.

And I’ve changed.

And when I see you on the street I’ll say hi and ask you how you’ve been, and you’ll say good even though everything might be falling apart for you.

And you won’t tell me why like you used to.

And I won’t ask you why like I used to.

I won’t call you at 11:30 p.m. to ask if you wanna come over for a sleepover. I won’t help you edit your English paper. I won’t ask if you need anything when I run to the store or if you need me to come over and bring snacks when he hurts you.

It broke my heart to lose you. Like really broke it.

It felt like a piece of me was gone, and I think it actually is. You were my go-to, number one, ride or die, support system, comedy show, love-you-to-death person.

Now it’s me.

And you.

And we are further apart than before we even met.

If you’re wondering at all, I’m okay. I found a lot of people that love me so much, and I love them back too. They make me feel loved and wanted, and they remind me why I had to leave you behind. They invite me places and give the effort back that I invest in them. And they notice me. They understand that some days I’m not gonna be okay, and I understand them too.

But they’re not you.

I’ll miss you forever. But I’m grateful for everything you gave me and all the happiness we shared together.

And after all this hurt, I can finally say without a doubt that I’m lucky to have lived a life that crossed paths with yours. I will cherish our memories. I’ll still probably tell my kids about you.

I hope you are doing okay, like really okay. I hope you know that even though you’ve moved on too, you can always call me up for coffee or invite me to come watch movies. I hope you’ve found people that love you and care about you the way that I did. And I hope you care for them more than you cared for me. 

I’ll wonder forever how things would have been if we were still friends.

To the person I loved and lost,

Thank you. For everything.


The girl who always had your back. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

I started writing as a form of therapy

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