www.whyville.net Jun 27, 2010 Weekly Issue

Guest Writer

I Kindasorta Miss You

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No matter how many times I hear the same story, ours just seems more special. It doesn't matter how many people have lost their best friends. I don't care that someone in the world misses someone too. The only thing that matters is that I miss you. You were my partner in crime, my sister, my only true friend. Now what are you? A memory? A long forgotten touch? Maybe you are a feeling that I felt too long ago to remember. Maybe you were the sun that I haven't seen in a year. Maybe you were the other half of me.

It doesn't matter.

You were my best friend. You were. What are you now?

Distance does not make the heart grow fonder. Time does not heal all wounds. I would know, I've had a hard time with both. Maybe you have too, but I wouldn't know. It's not like you talk to me anymore.

Do you remember those nights that we stayed up and talking until morning? The phone calls that lasted hours? The tears we both shed on that last day? The day your cousin asked me out? The minutes after when I said no? Can you recall sipping Jamba Juice on the curb of a strip mall? The time we wore those crazy skinny jeans to Dominck's and those boys stared at us?

I remember it all.

I know you remember it too, but do you care about it?

I had questions for you, I had stories I wanted to share, times I needed a shoulder to cry on and arms to embrace me.

I wasn't there for your new boyfriends, the divorce, you moving. I wasn't there to see you go to high school without me. I wasn't there to know how you felt when you realized you had a new best friend to replace me.

I remember making that promise with you. You know? The one where were swore we would be best friends forever. It was only two years ago, but it feels like forever. Can that promise stand forever?

It's been twelve months since I've seen you, you know. Do you care? A whole year.

Sometimes I wonder, even if we were reunited, would it be the same? Or would I just be living in a long-forgotten dream?

When I write about memories, I don't make a lot of sense. I don't try to use flashy words. Sometimes I forget grammar. Fact is, when I think about our friendship, I can't edit it and make it look better. It was how it was, fresh and raw, just like this. This is about you, in my most simple words.



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