Have you changed more, or have I?
It's hard to tell now. I barely remember how things used to be. I just remember made-up games and colored pencils, sunny afternoons that were never long enough, sleepovers and secrets.
But I don't know your secrets anymore; you've made new ones without me.
And of course, I have too. I'm very different than I was then and it's never more obvious to me than when I try to talk to you. Where do I even start?
I didn't change on purpose, you know. Shit just happens.
Don't you like the new me?
I'm still weird, at least.
I still like to draw and play outside.
I still love snakes and frogs.
I still . . . umm . . .
I remember that we promised eachother we'd always be friends.
Is there not enough left of our childhood selves to keep that promise to?
Are these faded memories not enough in common to base a new friendship on?
Is it the distance?
You'd still be my friend if I were still there, right?
Well, I would be different if I hadn't left, I suppose.
Maybe I should let you go.
It is the distance. I'm simply not there anymore.
I haven't been a part of your life for years. I'm only fooling myself, saying that we're still friends.
And yet, that idea is too terrible.
Without you, it's as if I'm without a part of myself. I never would have thought, back then, that I'd ever lose you and move on. I wouldn't just be losing you, I'd be losing touch with who I was then and that idea makes me feel so lost that I feel sick.
This isn't what growing up is supposed to feel like.
I'm trying to make new friends out here, but they don't know the real me.
They look at me and they see the person I'm dressed as.
It's nice, on the one hand, being treated differently.
They think I'm so edgey and strong.
I suppose it'll take them a while to see that that's only the me I want people to think I am.
And by then, maybe it won't be.
Change is scary.
That's all I'm saying.
I know those sunny afternoons are gone anyway. With or without you, I am not a kid anymore.
But if we're not to be friends anymore, at least give me a proper goodbye.
Friendships shouldn't die quietly like this. They are much too precious.
If I am to lose you, there should be screaming. There should be an epic battle. It should have taken an army, a hurricane, and a giant robot to pull us apart.
But no, it only took a church, a high school and a job.
This is real life.
There will be no battles. There will be no screaming.
All there will be is poetry, written after midnight, a thousand miles away,
This is how I fight for you,