A Friend Long Lost

now playing: 
Pandora, by Wisp

This essay is entirely fictional.

This song reminds me of a good old friend that I used to keep in touch with all the time.

Our friendship didn’t start as much in the early months of our new school year, but it was funny how quickly we became friends, like we had both been waiting for each other our entire lives. I remember the dumb yet long chains of text we would send each other for fun, lasting for what seemed like forever as our way of keeping our friendship together. What else were we meant to talk about?

As time went on, we eventually graduated from those chains of text to conversations about ourselves and each other. Maybe it was the boredom of the school year that sparked this new initiative, or the feeling of loneliness that came during the late hours; I'm not sure. It didn’t seem like much at the time, but it was new. It’s not like we were separated by distance either. We saw each other almost everyday in the halls of school, in classes, or even at sports practice. 

Soon enough, we were talking to each other across the table of a restaurant, maybe as friends, maybe as more. Who knows for sure. But I was scared. Scared of the uncertainty in the path that lay ahead of us. With the constant nagging of peers and the thought of another friend who shared the same journey as me, I held back. 

Later that year, we became close, closer than friends, but still far from anything else. Nothing, but something. But I didn’t realize that. I didn’t see what we had become, even after so long. I turned a blind eye from an opportunity for what could have been more. 

So I held the same. And we grew tired. Tired of the same thing for years and years. They moved on. We continued our friendship, but they looked for better. We came back a couple times, but I was as unsure as before. Was this the correct decision? I was scared to commit to something without certainty. I was scared that they wouldn’t, and our friendship, the friendship we had built up for so long, the friendship we had made together, would be ruined. 

And so I held back. And I let them slip by me again. They found someone, and while it stings to see them together, I'm glad they have someone. Someone who knew their decision. Someone who tried. Someone better than me. And for all his differences, he did something I couldn’t.

As I look back, I remind myself of the great, continuous conversations we had, and I miss them. I miss that feeling, knowing someone would be there for me to talk to, knowing I had someone that I knew would stay with me. The conversations that had shaped my understanding of others, showing me the true potential of those you call friends.

I say I’ve moved on as well. I have other ways of passing the time, other people to talk to, other things to contain my thoughts. I try not to look back, but the damage has been done. The standards have inadvertently been set. I unconsciously compare new ones with the old. I find differences. I really try not to, but once you've seen diamonds, how can gold still shine the same?

And so the chat, once flowing with ideas, thoughts, and laughs, now lay barren. The relationship, once lively and free, now broken. Now, a time where the thought of talking seems so hypothetical. It stings a bit to see that person as we pass each other in the halls, as if nothing happened. As if we were back in 9th grade. So close, yet so far.

This song keeps me in a dream where I wasn’t uncertain. 

Where we’re something.

Where we’re together.