Dear Friend, Where Did You Go?
I waited. I waited and waited and waited and waited and eventually, I realized that he wasn’t worth it anymore. If he wasn’t mature enough to move on, he wasn’t worth it. I told myself this, but I still wished. I still hoped. I still daydreamed.
What if?
What if I didn’t have to wait anymore? What if he talked to me again? What if he looked at me again? What if he cared about me again?
I don’t have a crush on him.
I know that’s hard to believe—I know. The way I talk doesn’t make it seem like my feelings are platonic but they are.
So here’s why I feel this way:
He was probably the greatest friend I’d ever had.
He made me laugh when I was sad, he listened when I talked, he comforted me when I cried, he was comfortable around me and I was comfortable around him. He never judged me for something I did or didn’t do. He trusted me and I trusted him. I loved him as my friend before I loved him as more.
I hate that we changed because I miss you being my friend.
Every damn day, I miss not being able to tell you about something silly, or talk to you about how stupid all of the drama is, or how angry I am all the time or how lonely I am all the time. I miss being able to talk to you about music and TV and movies and people. I miss being able to talk to you for hours because we never ran out of things to talk about.
We didn’t work out as a couple—I know that. I see now, looking back, all the mistakes I made, the things I did and didn’t say that I regret so much.
But I don’t see why we can’t be friends again.
Because I just miss you, okay?
However…I think the summer will get me over this. I won’t have to see you for three months. I won’t have to avoid you so that you’re comfortable. I’ll get over wanting to be your friend, just like you got over wanting to be mine.