Short Stories

When I Lost Him...

This is completely fictional. Any references to real life is completely coincidental. Everything is from my imagination. All rights reserved. 

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I clearly remember that day when everything fell apart; I came back from school wanting to talk to my only best friend, at that point of time, about what happened in school. When I messaged him, I usually got an immediate reply, but something was different, I didn't get a reply at all, until maybe the next day. It was only then that I found out that his grandfather had passed away and his father was in the hospital, recovering from a heart surgery. I never did get to tell him what happened, but instead he typed and I listened as he poured his feelings into our little chat box.

            The replies I got from him became sparser than the day before. I knew that he needed time, but wasn't three years enough time to recuperate? As the painfully slow months passed, the hopes of him ever coming back to the amazing person he was, disappeared. He got a new set of friends, who messed him up so bad that he started smoking and driving underage. I wanted to shake him hard, bring him back down to reality, but he was already gone. 

            The main reason I miss him so much is because he was the best thing that ever happened to me in the most platonic way. We had insanely long conversations that lasted all day. We had this ritual that we would always wish each other first on our birthdays' no matter what. On his 13th birthday, I was so much more excited than him and wished him every hour leading up to 12:00am. But before I could wish him at 12:00 my mother took my phone away. I cried so hard that night because I didn't want him to think that I forgot. So, the next day I got him his favourite chocolate and a funny, hand-made, comic strip card. But I never got to give it to him.

            Every year on his birthday I'd make him a card, and he'd scream out "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" on mine. I don't know if he still kept the cards or not, but the three years that we were best friends for, he'd keep reminding me about them. It's been almost two years since I last spoke to my best friend. We were the kind of best friends that people would get jealous of; they often made fun of us thinking we were dating because we were that close. There was a point of time in our friendship where we were living in two different time zones, almost 9 hours apart, and we'd still make sure to talk to each other everyday no matter what.

            I miss you, and I know you don't miss me because you're so content with your life and you never feel like there is anything missing, but I feel it. You told your girlfriend that I was one of your closest friends, then why didn't you tell me that instead? Why did you run away?