I want you to know I was walking with a friend tonight and you came up. I’ve never talked to him about you.
I want you to know that when he asked, I couldn’t say your name. No one here in this place has ever heard your name come from my lips.
I want you to know that what you did still hurts. I know it’s been six years.
I want you to know that the loyalty I have toward you is still very real. Sometimes that’s why I don’t like telling people about you. Because when I do, other people get mad at you. When I tell them what happened, no matter how bright a light I paint you in, they don’t like you. And I hate that.
He told me that, when it comes to friendship, once I’m friends with someone, I’m friends with them forever. I didn’t know people could read that about me. I wonder if he could feel it because he’s one of those people.
You were too.
The difference is I tell myself that he could leave me and disregard my friendship any time he wants. That’s completely his prerogative. If he decides he’s done being friends with me, it will be horrible. But it will be his choice and if he wants to make that choice, I will be okay with it.
With you, I told you I was afraid of people leaving me and you told me you never would.
And then you did.
I’ve learned, and am learning, to hold friendships closely but loosely. You were the reason I had to learn.
And still, I’m missing you.