letter to a faded friend
Heard a song we liked, once upon a time. Thought about how we walked to the bar together in the evening and you played it for me from the shitty phone speaker. I learned the lyrics that night, so I could sing it with you next time.
Think I'm feeling something too nuanced to put into words. Little sick to my stomach. Little mad or a lot of mad, maybe. A color like sadness. Cried when I found the note you wrote me: you're like a little sister to me. I thought that meant we were sticking together.
Think we should talk again. Hope I never see you again. I don't even know what I'd say, if I did. Not sure where it went wrong. (Not sure I could ask without breaking down.)
Wrote you one day (and another, and another). You never responded. Embarrassing - (humiliating) - to try for nothing. Wonder if I missed something. How should I know where to look to find it?
Saw a mutual friend the other day. Neither of us brought up your name. I know you still talk to her. (Or at least, I know now.)
Was it something in me? Or just an erosion? Time, a destroyer?
Not mad. Kind of mad. Want to ask. Want to forget about it.
Heard you'll be at the wedding. Hope I look like I really don't give a fuck. Maybe I'll wave, kind of like I forgot about you.
Whoa, you're here? I’m doing so well (without you). So good to see you! (Don't like that I resent you).
(Used to love you. Used to call you when I was afraid - when I was lonely, or happy.)
They might play that song at the wedding, you know? Just praying that I don’t look at you. Schrödinger's Shared Glance.
I wonder if we'd get along now. I'm scared that we wouldn't.