A letter to a (best) friend(?)

lost letters : 003

1 June 2015

Dear Nick, 

Oh how long it’s been! A whole entire year since we’ve graduated from high school and now we’re both already finished with our freshman years. I haven’t seen you since winter holiday, and I’ve only been able to keep in pathetic touch with you through meagre texts and snapchats that go mostly unanswered. I can already sense the immensity of how much you have changed—perhaps you, out of all of us, have changed the most—but like with Jasmine, I felt it from the beginning of the end. 

Our relationship has always been the rocky type, but overall it had been stable until the start of college. I remember in sophomore year when you had found a different friend group to hang out with during that year and the next, and you never told us why you just suddenly decided to limit the communication between us. I tried to shrug it off, but I couldn’t. In all honestly, I felt both saddened, as if by betrayal, and confused, as if by tragedy. You made me feel as if your best friend since 4th grade was just someone that you could push over to the side and not even glance at from the rearview, or something that you could simply drop from your hands. 

And how did I present myself after this? With indifference. With the feigned belief that you just simply grew out of our friendship because it could be done so easily for people like you. I continued on with the rest of our friends, but it’s ironic that after you had done this, I wasn’t angry toward you. I was never angry with you, because I wanted to understand you even if you didn’t give me the chance to. 

Then, senior year rolled around, and I noticed that you started to hang out with us just a bit more. You definitely didn’t have any sort of change of heart or anything, but you somehow drifted back toward us, and I was more than happy that you decided on doing so. You had changed so much—you were not longer that one kid in middle school that I know that you know what I’m referring to. 

I can only imagine the only person that you are today—literally, because of the fact that you give us almost no chance of ever seeing you while we might all still be together here. In just two weeks, you’ll be departing for Manchester for physics research until mid-August, so we only have, essentially, one week to try to see each other and our other friends, because you still haven’t quite finished the school year. And I can also bet that you’ll just keep giving us more and more “busy” replies whenever we ask you if we should meet. 

Nowadays, I wonder what we were, truly, to you. If we served some useful purpose for you to pass time with, when necessary, so that you didn’t stay bored. If we were worth something more to you than being just the people you hung out with. 

I will never forget that answer you gave me when I asked you a few days ago when you were coming back— 

«Why, did you want to do something?»



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