There are days, darling, where I just want to tell you about my life. I want to explain it all to you. I wish I could sit on the porch, and tell you my stories. Because I want to hear yours too. I want to soak up your happiness and revel in your accomplishments. I am so proud of you. I think you would be proud of me. I hope so, anyway. I know you wanted the best for me. I know that now.
Don’t you know that I was drowning? I wish I had taken your hand when you offered. I wish we had stayed out that night, instead of dragging ourselves home. I remember you watching me cry and making me tea. I should have listened to you that night. You were right. You are so wise. You always knew what to say, even if it was hard to say it. We were both caught in hurricanes. We both laughed at the danger and ignored all the warnings. We both knew what was happening.
Do you remember? We used to laugh, hard enough to wake the neighbors. We used to shout and dance. We were alive.
I know that I was selfish. I know. I didn’t know how to reach out. I was consumed by own tempest. I didn’t even know there was a way out. I didn’t know how to speak and ask for help. If I did, I never took it.
My darling, you are one of my favourite memories. You, and your posters and books and loud songs. I never left. I will mourn our friendship forever. I will write you up in my words, because I will always care. I hope your stories are as bright and alive as you are. Thank you