Dear You

Dear Adversary

Dear You,

It was hard to decide who to start with. There are a million things I want you to say to a million people for me. Because I can't. I'm sorry for that.

I'm sorry... Maybe I should start with that. Would You mind delivering this to my Adversary?

Dear Adversary,

I hate you. That's an awful way to start out a letter; but it's true, and honesty is the best policy. I don't want to hate you. Not really. But I do.

I hate that you are better than me. I hate that people like you better. I hate that we used to be best friends.

That's right. I don't know if you remember (certainly you must), but we used to be best friends. Or, at least, I think you were mine. We carpooled nearly every day for a year. That was a lot of time together. We talked, and laughed, and you used to smile. You know, you used to smile at me.

What changed, dear Adversary? Why? Your talent, I suppose. You were always so talented, but I thought I was too. I feel like I woke up one say, and you were simply astounding. I was proud, because I had called you my friend, but it pulled us apart. You found new friends, far more interesting, funny, relatable, and talented than I. You spent your time with a group I thought I might have been a part of. I was wrong. Apparently, my membership was revoked. 

You got better, and I got worse; and people adored you for your talent, while I was forgotten. You won awards, and  I sat in the back and clapped. The thing was, one day you stopped turing around.

That hurt. It really, really hurt. We stopped talking. We stopped smiling at each other. We stopped looking at each other. Which was hard, because we still saw each other every day. We stopped trying.

Or maybe I stopped trying. Or maybe it was you too, but it was also definitely me. I never even tried to mend our burnt bridge, and for that, dear Adversary, I am truly sorry. Maybe it's too late to start trying again.

Maybe it's not.

I'd like to see, dear Adversary.

Trying, -Me