Dear Long Lost Friend,
It’s been a while, how are you? I’ve begun this letter more times than I’d like to admit and I worry this one might not make admitting it any easier.
I guess I’m apprehensive because I am both extremely sorry and not sorry whatsoever for having lost touch. I am sorry because friends are hard to come by. I didn’t know that back when we were a “we”. I didn’t even know after we stopped being a “we”. I only recently figured it out when I realised just how little plural pronouns apply to me. I pride myself with how well I know where my two feet stand but it is still very saddening to realise they stand alone. I hope you have not gone through the same experience.
But I am also not sorry because communication has always been a two-way street. I don’t blame you, of course, because that would be hypocritical and to be frank, I never yearned for a message, until now. I’m not sorry because I had a life to live. I don’t have to explain how irreplaceable physical presence can be and the difficulties the lack of it poses. I’ve done well for myself. I’ve stepped out of the bubble of youth constructed by seemingly all-knowing adults at the same time as you but in a different direction, headed to become one of the all-knowers. Of course I haven’t yet or maybe I have and I just don’t know (ironically). My age is supposedly the indicator of this but then again it only quantifies my existence without acknowledging my existence at all.
If we are still alike, I’m sure you’ll understand my “sorry not sorry” status. How funny would it be if that phrase were made by a nostalgic all-knower instead of a meme-loving teen? Either way, it fits. And I hope you feel the same, for the sake of our past alikeness and possible reunion.
But if you don’t, I understand too. You see, this letter isn’t for just anyone. It’s for you. I miss you, dare I say, I don’t know you at all. I guess it is more accurate to say I miss who you were and what that made us. Do you remember when you swung across the river on a rope and jumped right onto me in the waters below? I think about that a lot. It should’ve hurt, if anyone were around they would’ve dove right in to save us, but it didn’t. We were light as feathers, perhaps because of the water lifting us or the sheer joy lifting our spirits and bodies alike. That’s what I miss. I change my mind, that memory is still a part of you, like it is me, so saying I miss you is okay, is right. I miss you. And I miss youth.
Tell me how you are, if you feel like it. I’d love to know. If not, that’s okay too. Thank you, and I mean this wholeheartedly, for making my past plural. I’ll cherish the memories like I have been for years. You really were, and I’m sure still are, one of a kind.
Sincerely,
A Letter Per Person
Image from The Grove.
