Dear Miss November,
You will never know how much I appreciate your enthusiasm and passion. I would not have survived senior year without my best friend. I am so thankful that we have managed to stay so close, even when everyone else fell off the map. You’re one of my favorite people.
Dear Mr. June,
Thank you for your honesty. You have always been such a good friend to me, and I know that I can trust you with anything. I love you like a brother, and I hope that is enough.
A Thankful Friend
Dear Miss April,
Thank you for listening to me and always understanding what I mean when I cannot find the words. You are more than my friend; you are my sister. I do not know where I would be without your encouragement. You are a constant source of inspiration.
And now for the hard part…
Dear Mr. February,
I could never say this to your face, because I would be too afraid of your response. However, I am holding to the conviction that you will never read this, and that gives me a strange sense of comfort.
I just wanted to say that I am sorry. I am sorry if you feel as if I led you on last year. I am sorry for the abrupt nature of my text message, whose words lacked the compassion my voice could have held. You were gentle, genuine, and patient. I was nervous, frightened, and pressured – not by you, by everyone else – our friends, my mother, society. I didn’t mean not you. I meant not now. My last wounds were still infected, and I needed time to heal and become a better person before I could deserve the attention of a guy as sweet and thoughtful as you.
Part of me wants to try this again. I think that I could be better this time. I am no longer broken, and I have learned so much about myself in the past year or so. However, at the same time, I am afraid that if you are willing to take a chance on me, we’ll only be disappointed. Maybe I’ll get scared again. Maybe we won’t have any chemistry after all. Maybe you won’t like what you find.
I do not know what your intentions are in rekindling our friendship, and that makes writing this all the more frightening. For all I know, you are only talking to me again because I am basically the only one left in town. But a small part of me has begun to hope that maybe, just maybe, it is because you didn’t give up on me after all, at least, not completely.
I think that this is the most exposed I have ever felt when writing. I always try to protect myself. I figure that if I keep my true thoughts hidden behind a wall of confidence and sarcasm I won’t get hurt. This is one of my imperfections, one of many, but at least I can admit this to myself.
Again, I regret the way things ended, before they had even begun. I hope that if you do stumble upon this, and you do not have any romantic feelings towards me, our friendship does not become awkward and ruined. This catastrophe has just been on my mind lately, and I needed to flush everything out.
The One Who Ran Away