Dear old friend,
We’ve done a lot together, we played, we ate, we laughed, we cried – hell, we even bathed together a few times, but now we barely speak at all. I moved and you moved on.
The peak, for me, was roughly fourteen years of age, boys, school, smoking was pretty cool and sleepovers were still a thing. We actually had fun together still. Holidays with your family, Sunday lunch with mine – both engrossed in a friendship that could have lasted to our last breaths.
Then you decided to become someone who I didn’t think you’d be. Going beyond smoking cigarettes, more than playing kiss-catch, more makeup and more heavy metal. Believe me, I love you for all these reasons, you were mine and that’s how you were known to be and I was glad to be a part of you. But why was it, that which your new cool aesthetic, that I was suddenly boring to be around?
You say you miss me, say you can’t wait to see me, remember the good times we had as great ones yet when I come to you, like I always do I may add, I have more to say to your mother that you. I’m more invested into your sister than you. You don’t like me anymore and I don’t know why or what I’ve done or why I’m so uncool because I chose to move away.
Why aren’t you at my door every Boxing Day?
Why are you calling me a bad friend because I didn’t come see you that once, when you’ve never made the effort for me?
Why is it an absolutely horrifying thought, to leave you behind?