Letters I'll Never Send

One last time, KC

Kitchen Counter

I haven't talked to you since that summer when it all happened. I haven't really thought about you in a long time, either.

I'm happier now than I've ever been. And maybe that has something to do with the fact that you got married and I realized that reconciliation was just a childish fantasy that I never had the pleasure of living.

I guess things just get better with time. I know, right? I've become *that* person.

I'm not going to say that I don't miss you sometimes. Because, at the end of the day, you were my best friend. You were there for me in ways that only one other person ever had been--and they were after you anyways. When it all comes down to it, you were the only person I ever felt truly understood me.
And I never got to hold you or kiss you or call you mine.
And I never got that closure or truth that I desperately needed.
And I guess that's why I hung on for so long.

But yeah, it's been two and a half years since I lost you and everything is radically different now. Especially since I have Blake (but it seems that when I write a letter for someone I lose them soon after so I'm not going to go into that out of paranoia).

I don't know why I just randomly started thinking about you today. I let my mind wander and it wandered back to you.

I don't miss the romantic aspects of our relationship, I just miss the closeness of it. I thought our souls were tethered together--and maybe, at the time, they were. I miss how I trusted you with my entire life. I miss how it seemed that you trusted me with yours.

"We can still be friends," you said.

"I can't," I replied, my voice cracking at every letter.

I needed space to heal. I needed you gone to get over you.
And it worked--more or less.

We were Emily and Kitchens.

Maybe one day you'll know how much you meant to me.

-Emily