Letter Eighteen

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My Love,

Today I lost my best friend.

Despite swearing to never utter another word to you, I reached out. It was like instinct, I was fine until I started talking to you that was when the tears started rolling and I realised just how sad I was that I had lost my better half. The last few weeks had been very rocky between us and today it all just exploded. I did the one think I never thought I would do, I pushed her around and I told her that she was dead to me. For the first time in my life I have regretted the words that came from my mouth. She had just changed so much, I had changed as well, finally we have grown so far apart that we completely outgrew each other. I have known her for the same length of time that I have known you, maybe even a little longer. She was my human diary; she was the person I confessed everything to. She was. Until everything changed and shifted and I felt the need to walk on eggshells around her in fear that she might get a mood swing and decide that she didn't want to talk to me anymore.

I wrote a letter to her like I write letters to you where in I apologised, which was a first for me, I think it is very clear in that letter that I am practically begging her to not to forgive my actions, but to just believe that I do love her and that she isn't dead to me.

To my surprise you responded and then you responded in a way that made me regret coming to you. You said that we were full of shit and I should stop being so dramatic. Thank you for that, thank you for being a total dick when I needed the exact opposite. I hope my friend and I get to at least stay friendly, I would hate it if she removed herself from my life completely.

I can't believe I lost two of the most important people in my life in less than two months. I barely even recognise myself, is that why you left? Did you not recognise me as well? I wanted change; now all I have done was go three steps deeper into the dark, dark woods.

Today was the first day I wrote a poem again. I wanted to write this amazing poem about these amazing English teachers that I have encountered over these last few years, but what the poem turned out to be was an apology for my lack of ability to turn simple thoughts into beautiful poetry.

It might not have been much, but at least it was something, it was a start.

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