A Letter to a Friend

I'm sorry.

I rarely ever say that, but feel the need to start off with that. I think the last thing I said to you a few months back when we last talked was to grow up...and then I hung up. That was childish, and wrong. I was frustrated and upset with not only you but with my whole life and just took it out on you. I was supposed to be there for you, like you'd been there for me so many times when I thought the world was against me and where was I? Wrapped up in my own world.

You were frustrated. You felt stagnate. I'd just been to that place and instead of coming at you in empathy, I got annoyed with you. You, who had so much to give in life, so much direction, felt stuck? Why? What for when you had the world in the palm of your hands?

I remember work that day was crazy. I'd gotten in trouble for some minor sh*t, this dude I was digging blew me off, and then here you go...not recognizing your potential and sh*t...

I haven't heard from you since, but I know you're well. I guess this letter is more for me than for you; it's me learning to let not only you go, but that guilt that I carry with me for not being the friend I should've been to you.

It's funny, but with every friend I get now, the males anyway, I search for your characteristics. I want to learn them to see if they walk like you, or talk like you, if they see me the way you do, so clearly and easily despite all the opaque glass I have up around my true self. Nobody's come close. I don't think anyone ever will.

I love you. I miss you. And if I see you one day in the street, I'm kicking your ass on sight for not calling me.

Love.