To: Lenawashere
This one is a little funny, those that know me probably know I actually do know someone named Lena, but obviously all these titles are not the actual names of the people they’re about, and so the only person who would know who I am referring to would be…you.
Where do I even begin? I miss you. I miss you so much I have to actively keep myself from thinking about you lest I spiral about what could’ve been. I lament the fact that I did not think to save the emails we sent each other since we were young expecting us to remain lifelong friends (or, hopefully, more) only to now only know silence and regret.
This one is tough because…I just don’t know. I don’t know if I did something or if you just decided to stop talking to me. I don’t even know if you’re okay or even alive, and I think that’s the worst part. You had warned me it would be dangerous but worth it to go on your volunteer service, did something actually happen to you or did you just lose your phone and realize you did not have another source for my number? Did you forget my address since we only saw each other once and maybe you also thought you’d just ask me what it was later? I don’t know. I even told my brother if he remembered seeing you that day and to keep an eye out in case you came back to confirm whether I lived there or not (I do not, I was visiting).
But I miss you. The one and only thing I’ve ever really wanted in my life was someone I felt like was on my frequency and never before or after have I met someone else who I so easily felt was better than me in every way. I would be in awe and so captivated by just how brilliant and clever and fun you were and how easily we got along and how much we loved each other and…how it felt like it might genuinely be meant to be.
And we would talk, and laugh, and have disagreements and arguments that we would resolve so effortlessly because you were you and everything felt so effortless when talking and being with you. Even my shortcomings, even my stupid mistakes and misplaced pride and meaningless stubbornness all eroded away when pitted against you. And, not in an antagonistic way, and not in a messiah complex way, you just would remind me of who you thought I was, and whenever who I was being was not who you felt I could be, I would want to change and do better—for you, and thus, for me as well.
They say bright lights burn out fast, and I used to think this was referring to me, but…obviously, if it is referring to anyone, it’d be you. People like you: bright, loving, caring, funny, smart, strong, good people, they tend not to last—or, more accurately, they tend to be snuffed out. This world is not designed nor intended to support or protect people like you and we are all the worse for it.
God, how I miss you.
