Quite honestly, I'm not sure who I can address this letter to. I try to keep in contact with most people, and even if I'm not the best at it, whenever I think of them, I try to make contact. But I guess I may have an idea as to who might fit this bill.
Hey there.
We haven't really talked since you moved to Texas, but I still miss you. We chatted a bit during the summer before junior year of high school, but it seemed to be just small talk: how is school, how's the family, the pets, the friends.
I miss our conversations - the ones we had at midnight in your basement during sleepovers, the ones we had while riding bikes around town, the ones we had in our classes and in the hallways at school. I remember spending hours in your room, with the fairies on the walls and the closet that had an automatic light in it. I remember telling scary stories in the little clubhouse in your backyard, and contemplating the life of birds while swinging in a hammock. I remember the bond that we shared, and how that bond seemed to weaken and break with distance.
For the first year or so, I hoped that we could still be friends. We would instant message, but it definitely wasn't the same. Sometimes I wonder whether we would have stayed close if we had the technology then that we do today - whether video messaging and Facebook could have kept our friendship alive. But I guess it's too late now; times have changed both of us, and from what I can tell, we both have changed so much.
A lot has changed in the past six years, and sometimes I want nothing more than to call you and hang out. I know that it is basically impossible - we're in two totally different states and are two completely different people. But I still wish we could have held onto that bond that once held us so tight.
I guess the fact of the matter is: I miss you.
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