I don’t think I’ll ever stop caring for him, and maybe that’s a good thing? This doesn’t mean I should dwell on the past and constantly be nostalgic. This also doesn’t mean I should play the “What if’s” or “What could have been’s” game. But I do care about him, similar to the way I care about my friends I grew up with. It’s like a version of homesickness, or a fond remembrance of childhood/adolescence. Rose-colored teen angst. We all share hilarious memories of screw-ups and firsts, heart break and failure, growing up and moving away. We’re creatures who were made for relationships, and I think you’re allowed to embrace your past and those in it. When I feel something that reminds me of who I was back then or see something that reminds me of him, I often pray for him.