Thanks for getting in touch. I wish I could respond to you as the 23-year old that I am and not the 17-year old that you bring out in me. Even now I struggle to find the words, as I always did, in response to your comfortingly simple way. You are straightforward and uncomplicated, and leave me speechless. Truly. Always.
I’d like to extend my sincerest apologies that I can not exchange more than a paltry greeting or offer more than a brief resumé of my life as it exists now. I want, so much, to share it with you. I want for us to be friends for once, and somehow for you to be important in my present for a reason other than because you were important in my past. If I could find the words, I would share more than this letter with you. But, since you leave me tongue-tied even now, I can only write my embarrassment.
I am sorry that, after five years, I still become the petulant teenager who wants more than you can give. I try to placate her with reason, telling her that she’ll feel that way about someone else, even if I know that heady rush of emotion only ever happens once. And, while we’re both resigned and accepting that we will never be that person to you again, while we admit that we don’t know the man you have become or why exactly we loved the boy that you were, we are still grieving a little. At 17 she will never get over her broken heart. At 23 I’ll never get over wanting to feel that way again. But, we’ll both be fine, if taciturn, is response to your simple, unbroken way.
See you soon,