An honest letter to the "best" friend I left behind

 man in distance walking between trees with sunlight streaming through them

I’ve changed. You’ve probably changed too — but I would know it.

Because I’ve moved on.

I’m a different person now.

This is a letter to you, the best friend I’ve left behind.

I know we were close once.

I know it felt like we would be friends forever, and now we haven’t talked in how long?

Five years? Ten?

It’s been a long time.

The truth is, we may never talk again.

But that doesn’t negate the fact that we were friends once.

I think we connected because we had similar interests. We were running in similar circles.

And circles have a way of connecting people. Connections complete the circle.

But then I moved away. I decided to follow my passions, and those passions didn’t leave any space for you.

I’m not sure I feel bad about it, although I’m sure it may have upset you.

Or maybe it didn’t.

I wouldn’t know because we haven’t talked.

I think I made an effort, although that can be easily forgotten.

In a friendship, should the onus be on the one who moved away?

Anyway, it’s all in the past now.

The one who moves away from the group is typically the easiest one to forget

Because he is the one who did the distancing.

Even if he tries to stay in touch, he naturally becomes “the other,” the one who is outside the group.

He’s the one who saw something elsewhere and went after it.

And unless there is a force strong enough to maintain the connection, “the other” is off doing other things, in other places that have strange-sounding names.

It makes sense, though.

The brain likes patterns. It likes the path of least resistance.

So why hack through the jungles of long distances when there are familiar bodies nearby?

It’s safer that way.

Even the best friendships sometimes fizzle out.

You might think I’m talking about you — but I’m not.

I’m talking about you.

Everything is subjective.

Reality is socially constructed.

So what I’m saying might not make any sense — or it could make all the sense in the world.

It all depends on how you receive the information.

That’s why I’m writing you a letter that you’ll never get.

Not because I want us to meet up and seal broken bonds.

But because I need to do this for myself.

Because I’ve changed.

And you’d never know it.

But I do.


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