You'll find me here. You'll find me sitting across from an empty seat in our favorite café warming my hands with my usual drink as I look towards an empty chair that used to be occupied with your laughs, your smiles, your stories and even sometimes your tears. I sit here and wonder, "how did we end up here?"
The last time we talked was senior year in high school. I remember coming in late to graduation practice because I came home from a concert the night before. You were sitting on the floor, huddled up with your bag as you meticulously searched for something. I smiled as I called out your name. You were surprised by my presence but dropped your bag and went to my side, ready to hear all about the awestruck concert that took place. That was our last conversation.
I didn't think it would ever be our last though. The way we talked that day seemed just like how we always did: the occasional squealing, the playful glares and the forever glued smiles on both of our faces. I was pretty sure we would talk the day after that, but we didn't. The funny thing is, we didn’t even bother approaching the newfound eerie silence that welcomed our friendship.
Soon enough graduation came. Your parents greeted me on my way to the classrooms. They were sporting proud looks and smiles of joy at the thought of you receiving your well-deserved medals. I was so proud of you, too. I didn't see you during ceremony and it’s not because you were sitting a few rows behind me, but because when you came on that stage I realized we were not just leaving our school behind but I think we were also leaving our friendship as well.
I have come to realize that our friendship wasn’t laid out in a yellow brick road. We were going through a forest. There were times where the sun was so bright that you were like a sister I wished I had, and there were times that we tripped and slipped words and actions that we could never take back. Because of that, I’m sorry. We were worse than an on-and-off-again couple; we ignore each other without cause or make the littlest things seem humongous and because of that we changed. We changed ourselves by trying to fix ourselves.
Summer after graduation came, we never talked again. I never had the courage to send you a text and you never bothered to see how I was doing. Our birth month passed and you didn’t greet me.
"We just stopped talking." I guess it's true. But I still find myself going to the same café, ordering the same thing and sitting across from that empty seat waiting for your voice to call out my name from behind. If you're wondering, I’m not looking forward to being best friends again but I’m sitting here waiting for us to fix this, to settle this and go on our separate ways. To finally say, "To all those rollercoaster years, thank you, best."
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