First of all, I'd like to say: congratulations. From what I hear, and it isn't a surprise to me, you turned out pretty well. You are doing what you love, and I couldn't be prouder of you.
I know. It's been years since we've seen each other. Even more since we ever really talked. Much longer even since we were best friends. Do you remember how you were my secret Santa in third grade? I think we used to sit together in groups in fourth grade. You took my photo and I took yours at the end of the school year for our photo albums. I knew you would do something musical with your life when you let our class hear your song about that specific historical event that your dad helped record for you. I remember that I tried to switch my Halloween costume in fifth grade because one of my other friends "planned" on being the same thing, and we ended up being characters that dated for a while in one of our favorite books.
Do you still read often? Are you still allergic to strawberries? Is purple still your favorite color? I didn't really know you had a crush on me until you gave me that mini porcelain owl - I'm still quite fond of owls, by the way - and even then you were still my best friend. And then we decided to try and call ourselves a couple.
I understand now, why you stopped talking to me then. I really appreciated your letters you sent from summer camp, but we were extremely shy. Thinking back, it reminds me of when a young dog catches something that he had been chasing, but didn't quite think out the rest of the plan, and quickly releases it. Not the best way to describe it, but I hope you understand what I mean. Of course, I grew up with Disney Princess movies, so I expected boys to always be a bit more assertive. But we were both shy. We didn't know what to do with what we had once we had it.
So we let it go. I knew it was done when we danced in middle school. You said nothing, I said nothing. It was quite embarrassing just because my friends were watching. We danced at the classic arms length apart. My best friend at the time was ready to chase you down and give her a piece of her mind before I stopped her. I believe it would be another year of avoidance and pretending until you would tell her that I was just another face in the crowd, she would try to get us to talk to each other on instant messenger, and then you would tell her that you just didn't like me.
Of course I was crushed. It didn't matter to me that we hadn't spoken in a while. It didn't matter to me that the feelings we thought we had for each other, at least on my end, we're grossly misinterpreted. You were my best friend. I had just assumed at this point that once we finally decided to end whatever it was that drove us to tell our friends to tell each other hello instead of doing it ourselves, that we would accept that it didn't work and that we would go back to being best friends. It never occurred to me before that moment that friends could be lost.
I was over having any romantic ideals around you. I was over having a crush on you. But I wasn't over losing you as a friend. It was hard for me to avoid you in high school because we had a couple of classes together. You were still exceptionally creative in our painting and sculpture classes. Still, I couldn't bring myself to suggest we talk or hang out together. Even when you complemented me on my artwork, I was still under the impression that you just didn't like me. And while we had some of the same friends, we didn't have the same crowds. Heck, I didn't really even have a crowd.
I put you away and got rid of a lot of the things I had kept as momentos. Still, I would occasionally see you in a dream, as awfully cliche as it sounds. You entered them again the other night, as the day before I came across your name amongst a band I was looking into in order to expand my musical palette on my commute to the elementary school I teach art at. I dared look you up on facebook - after all, we do have a few mutual friends - but I couldn't bring myself to do anything more.
I don't request friendships online. I don't like to put myself out there even if I talk to people in person. The last guy I accepted a friend request from high school - well, let's just say it was a terrible experience. So going forward to request one myself? Especially since even though we knew each other into high school, we weren't friends? I couldn't do it. Especially now, now that you're part of a pretty successful band in NYC and had probably forgotten all about your friend from elementary school.
Even as I write this, I'm scared of what will happen when this finally reaches you. Probably nothing. You probably won't even see it. I want to remain anonymous and I would never call you by name in public. But if you do read this (and thanks for dealing with how verbal I can be when I'm nervous about something, by the way), then there are some things that I would like you to know.
As you could have inferred from the previous, the first is that I wish we could have stayed friends. I do still miss that genuine friendship we had towards each other when we were kids.
Also, I don't hate you. I don't feel resentment towards you, or annoyance, nor do I feel the need to deny your existence.
I do want to thank you, for being the first person to show me that friendships aren't necessarily forever, and things do fall apart. And most of the time, you won't get a chance to say what you want to before it is all over.
Finally, I probably wrote this for myself most of all. Yes, I would like to get in touch with you, to finally hear your side of it all. But I'm hoping that even writing this will give me a sense of closure, to not be plagued by the what-ifs of our friendship.
In my dreams, I am talking with you, you are friendly towards me, and I am introducing you (formally, this time) to the senior who stole my heart and gave me those flowers in sophomore English class. I've been with him ever since. We just moved into a house with a one-year-old dog. And in this dream, you are happy for me. You tell me all of the things you have done with your life, and I am happy for you. And at the end, we are happy to have talked to one another and can go about our lives. Because we know now. We know that we are both okay. And we are both okay with each other.
I hope that when you read this, you will know who I am. I hope that you know that it is you that I am referring to. And I really hope you don't think I'm strange for writing this. I know, it has been years. Practically a lifetime, really. I suppose, when all is said and done, after thousands of letters and hundreds of words, I just wanted to tell you myself: hello.
