Dear You,
When I think about you, an internal conflict begins to rage because although I miss how things used to be between us, I can't help but uplift the beautiful person you have become today. A smile hints when I reminisce on awkward things that brought us joy. Who else found laughter in pregnant ladies dancing, Haitian aunts babbling at family parties, nosebleeds in the bathroom, and corny jokes often involving running escargots. The latter is something I would rather not explain. Essentially, no one could make me laugh as you did, and feel better about life. You knew me and I knew you.
I was thirteen when I decided that you were more than just my cousin. You had graced your way into my life and became my best friend and no one could ever take your rightful place. In our secret hideaways, we shared our dreams, and through the distance, everything else. You never did live near me and naturally we adapted to the lack of physical time spent together. It made road trips even more exciting. We did not keep it from sharing almost every thought with each other. Even the mundane decisions needed your screening. Together, we went through the headaches of love and boys, dramas with girlfriends, stress of school, unfortunates of family, and much self-discovery. We secured a bond that was unbreakable, but when feelings started changing, so did we.
We stopped expressing ourselves to one another, often times because we were scared to be judged. We lost patience as well as things to talk about. We let negative thoughts linger more than we should. We stopped leaning on each other's shoulders. Most importantly, we stopped making each other laugh at life. I miss the long hours talking about why boys were stupid and the times you made me smile when something else made me sad. Your positivity could lift a nation, nonetheless me. Your spirit was one that complemented mine, so when I received less of it in the same tenacity, I know something had been altered.
Honestly, we are at an okay place now. We talk every couples of days of things of semi-importance, but I often fear that your new path in life will be one that drifts from mine. You've developed into a strong, self-confident, and passionate person who I believe will save marriages, as you aspire to do. We both are doing well but this is not my true concern. You also have a heart that follows the Lord, another commonality between us, but I know you have far surpassed me when it comes to Him. You are afraid of losing my friendship to someone else as I fear losing our friendship in being unequally yoked spiritually. I'm afraid to be honest with you because some of the things I do you would not support. So instead of talking, I choose to listen even though you express little say. Your silence can be stifling on the other end when I do share my life. Sometimes I don't know how to accept it, so I choose to run away.
You've told me I could always be honest with you, but in the back of my mind I didn't believe it. I just don't want what I say to be the reason nothing is said at all. Although this is a rough patch in our friendship, I want you to know and believe no one will ever take your place.
