One More Letter

To Mallory

Mallory, what's happening?

Dear Mallory, 

Do you know why I chose this name? Google it, I put a lot of thought into it. But anyways, thanks for the heads up. Really, it was super nice. Calen was really upset. Your stuff is still in your locker too, and you've got three library books due. 

I thought you were sick at first. At lunch I hypothesized that you'd been in a car  accident and were getting your legs amputated. This was not the case. Nope, instead you moved away without telling anyone because...

Well, okay, I don't really know how to finish that sentence. Because you were upset? Scared to see how we'd react? 

Whatever the reason, it was a stupid one. Hearing the news from one of our other friends as she was only a few minutes away from tears in the bathroom right before first hour after we hadn't seen you in a full week is so much worse than it would have been if we'd heard it a week earlier from you yourself.

I'm angry, if you can't tell. Angry and very, very sad. 

I can't help but feel that we never really were that close of friends. Not only this, but we never did hang out all that much, just me and you. I can't help but wonder if I ever knew you at all. Like you were an entirely different person, with a completely separate life other than the one that our friends and me and you shared. You never seemed so far away until I look back upon our friendship as a realist, not an optimist. 

That's the thing about my friends, y'know. They make me so optimistic I'll never see the end. They make me think that, when we're together, we're invincible. But we're not. We're anything but invincible. We're teenagers; depressed, anxious, broken teenagers, fearful of the future, too young to understand life, too old to have an excuse for that. We're not invincible, and I was stupid to ever think that I could be bullet-proof.

 It feels like, if we were real friends, you'd feel comfortable enough to tell us, even if you were crying. Even if you were broken. Even if, even if, even if... It'll make no difference now though. The damage has been made. You can't kiss it and make it feel better anymore. We aren't kids anymore.

It wasn't your fault I bet. Where are you now, I wonder? Garber, Waller, Meadow Lake? I don't know. I hope none. 

I hope you're okay. Despite the turmoil I'm feeling, I still care about every single one of my friends, even and especially the ones who have left. I hope you're okay, and happy, and I really hope you're eating every meal and stuff. I really really hope you're okay. You can always call any of us.

Sincerely, hopeful and stupid for it