You’re one of the best friends I’ve ever had, and I love you for that, for being such a great and dependable and responsible person, for being kind and generous, but knowing when to be honest and knowing when to fight.
I wish you didn’t have to go so far away, you know, on the other side of the world. All those questions we had about the nature of life, and the Universe…theyd’ve been perfect to answer in college.
I have this one little question, though: if you weren’t there to tell me not to give him that letter, what would’ve happened? I don’t know if you’ll remember this; it was the one where I was gonna tell him I liked him. You know, the one just to let him know.
It wasn’t like I was gonna ask him to love me or anything, you said, and he wouldn’t really know what to do with it anyway. You said he seemed okay with her, you said he didn’t really need me, you said he probably wouldn’t want to know about my feelings.
I didn’t know what to feel about that, really. Were you telling me I wasn’t pretty enough for him? Not…smart enough? Too fat? That he would never love me? I didn’t know, but I trusted you.
I didn’t give it to him. I’ve never told him how I feel about him either, though it’s been years and years and I still sort of feel that feeling sometimes. They’re still together, whatever it is that they have, you know, him and her.
I once went out with both of them and it was kind of awkward and he and I talked a bit about life in general; we were always so awkward around each other, you know that. It hasn’t changed. I guess you had a point there, then. At least this way he and I are still friends, without any more potential awkwardness to the overwhelming awkwardness between us. I knew I could trust you.
I wish I’d asked you why you said that, you know. You see, sometimes my heart still forgets that it isn’t allowed to feel, and it gives this excited little kick when I see him, or when I remember he’s alive in and in this world and I have two phone numbers of his saved in my contacts list and I don’t know which he uses but I want to just text him that I love him.
Sometimes I remember the sun in my eyes and the wind blowing through his hair and the shape of his head from behind and how I used to listen for his footsteps and the way we used to look at each other from across the room. Sometimes I look through our pictures and smile from ear to ear at all the ones where we’re standing side by side and pretend we’re in love.
Sometimes I remember that dream where he and I wake up together and he hugs me from behind.
And then I remember what you said, and I tell myself, “You’re just making it up again. Wake up. Stop wishing on nonsense.”
But, you know, I always wonder.