Hey buddy, I miss you.

I miss being bored with you as much as I miss getting drunk with you. I miss arguing and laughing with, taunting, and admiring you. You’re forever my best friend, and I miss that reassurance the most.

When I decided to move 700 miles away for college, it was for reasons unknown to everyone but me. While I cover up my shame with petty excuses for leaving, the real issue behind moving so far away is pure insecurity.

I hated it there; everyday felt like one of those nightmares where you get to school and realize you’re naked. Every time I think of that town I instantly feel ashamed and regretful, unless that thought is of us. So, please, friend, don’t think my moving away had anything to do with me wanting to get away from you. I love and miss you, more than you will ever know.

I did leave, in part, because I feel as though you deserve better. We are complete opposites: you are fashionable, artistic, sociable, sassy, talkative, well-liked, and a boy. I still wonder how we always got along so well. However, as we became better friends, it became apparent that I did not fit into your lifestyle. You deserved so much better, and I saw that every time we hung out. I am a homebody loser, anti-social, and terrified of judgement. Why didn’t you find a new best friend, someone more outgoing and fun? The point is, I knew I couldn’t offer you what I know you deserve in a friend, so with my leaving I had hoped you would find it.

Now that I see your posts on Instagram and Facebook with your new friends, I can’t help but be depressed. I’m sitting in the dark, typing, while my zombie roommate coughs up something that sounds like a bronchitis-induced hair ball. When I see your pictures with your new friends, my heart literally drops. I feel a confusing mix of jealousy, regret, happiness, and relief. I hate that I can’t be there, but the emotions quickly turn positive when I realize that, if I were still there holding you back, you would probably not be there right now. We would be on my sister’s God-awful leather couch, thinking of ways to pass the time.

Still, I hate myself for not being good enough. With my dad out of the picture, you are the only relationship with a guy that has ever been positive. And because of this, I know I need you more than you need me. I can’t handle that vulnerability.

I’m coming to visit in 30 days and, truthfully, I am terrified. I drown myself in depression when I envision us seeing each other in person for the first time in months, and within hours we are bored and you are wishing you were with your other friends. You will say, “___ is having a party, let’s go!” and I will say, “You know I don’t like parties.” and so we continue to sit. I will try talking or telling jokes as means of entertainment, but you will be consumed in disappointment, only physically present.

I wish I could have been more confident, I wish I could have stayed, I wish we could have been best friends who do fun stuff together, and I am so sorry that I kept you from branching out and meeting new people. Although I hate that we are growing apart, I am so glad that you are still happy, and that you are continuing to grow. Although I feel like a forgotten worn-down toy you grew out of years ago, I am happy that you have found your niche. I just wish I could have been part of it. I miss you so much.