I miss staying up until early morning talking to him about our plans for the future, shit that meant nothing to anyone else but everything to us, how we really felt about the world, what we were really going through. I miss having him there for me to talk about my problems, I miss listening to him talk about his problems. I hate the fact that we haven’t spoken normally in almost two years, I hate how our conversations became strained ever since I moved. I hate that we drifted, and that I lost my best friend over something ridiculously stupid. I hate that I’m never getting him back. I hate that no one understands me like he used to. I hate that I haven’t truly told anyone what’s been happening in my life and how I really feel since we stopped talking. I remember the first conversation we had, I thought he was an illiterate fuck, and he thought I was that weird emo kid with red shoes and a Buzz Lightyear backpack. I remember him giving me bands and artists to look up, saying he thought I’d appreciate them, and I did, every time. I remember the first time I gave him a hug, I just walked up to him, said ‘hey,’ then, ‘I have to go,’ hugged him, and walked away. I remember my last day of school before I moved, and I wanted one photo with him, none of them ended up how I wanted them, but I got one of us hugging and to this day, it’s my favourite photo. I remember two days before I moved, he came to my house to say goodbye, I never felt more like crying than I did right then. I remember the next day, I went to say goodbye to some friends in town, and saw him just before he got on his bus, we said goodbye one last time, and when I then went to see my friends, one of them gave me his bracelet and said he’d told them to give it to me because he didn’t know if he’d see again. I remember finding out after I’d moved that the bracelet he gave me was the one he always wore, and I remembered how he didn’t mention anything about it when I saw him last. I remember wearing that bracelet every day for almost a year. I wish things were like they were. I wish he was still my best friend. I wish I hadn’t said the things I did. I wish I hadn’t listened to others and gone with what I thought was the truth. I wish I could tell him this, and I wish we could talk like we used to. I wish I could see him again and tell him I’m sorry I made a mess of everything. I wish I had have realised sooner that he loved me, and I wish I had have realised how I really felt sooner than I did.

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