Letter to Ben
By John Smith | The One and Only
This is a letter that I wrote to someone that I have to assume we’ll never read this, because if he does, I’ll never have the courage to write again.
I like to think I know you pretty well. You’re rather predictable. And you and I both have a connection. We’re both losers.
I know you keep a few USB drives close on a collar around your neck at all times. I know your skin isn’t pale from any kind of skin condition, like a stranger might assume. It comes from isolating yourself in your basement because you would rather play games on your new multi-screen PC than play a sport. I’ve checked out your 6 year-old YouTube channel and got to see you give your opinions on the comfort and adaptability of different keyboards.
Not the best dating profile I’ve seen. But what do I know? You were the ladie’s man, after all. I was always content to be single, but not you. You always had to be in some kind of relationship. You got your first girlfriend, Jane, back in 5th grade.
Did I ever tell you I think that’s super weird? Who dates from 5th grade up? What did you do together? Go to the Science Museum with someone’s parents? It confused me back then, just like now, but I guess I was impressed after all. I could never have done that.
Did you need some kind of comfort? Some acknowledgement that you’re valuable? Why? You should have already known that. I was far from your only friend. I probably wasn’t even your best friend. But I was your first, if I remember correctly. Back in Mrs. Rowan’s 2nd grade classroom, where we sat next to each other in the only two back desks in the room.
Is that why you let me stick around you in high school, sit next to your gang at lunch, and hang out after school? Loyalty? Maybe you don’t remember, but I do. I remember how you changed in high school; how you hid your USB drives and suddenly became much more interested in what everyone else played, watched, read, and wore. I stayed the same but you wanted to change.
Still, you didn’t abandon me. You got invited to more parties, met more girls, became the rebel of the school. You got more and more popular but you never left me out of your loop, so, thanks for that, I suppose.
Still, some things never changed. You still always had to be dating someone. And so after Jane came Amber and Ellie and Sydney and Hannah. It was like you hurt physically from being single.
I understand now it did hurt you. I probably should have been a better friend to you than I was. You invited me over to your house plenty of times, first just to hang out. Then it was to have a beer. Then to go camping together, try heroin with you, smoke some pot, break into a factory, play Dungeons and Dragons.
But it never took. I declined and declined until you knew to stop asking. You probably knew I was too scared. So you kept a respectful distance. We were friends, just not great friends.
I was happy to think you still wanted to see me after all this time. I can’t remember at what point I started thinking of you as the cool kid too…
At our high school graduation, we hugged after I gave a cute little speech to the assembly. The speech was about how we’ll all miss each other but it’s okay because, even though everyone changes, part of us remains the same. And that part, will stay with us when we meet again. I believed that even after years of not being classmates, if we meet again in our lives, we’ll be able to talk with each other as easily as could before.
For whatever reason, you seemed to respond really well to that message. When you hugged me, you said, “John, man, we should see each other again soon!” I was happy to think you still wanted to see me after all this time. I can’t remember at what point I started thinking of you as the cool kid too, but it felt nice to have your attention.
“Oh yeah,” I said, super convincingly. “Definitely soon!”
I thought I was being the better person by avoiding you, as you made worse choices, taking harder substances and dating worse people. Now, I see why you don’t talk to me anymore though, why you stopped reaching out. After all the excuses I made, anyone would have stopped.
I wish you were still a loser like you used to be. It was easy being around you then. But I can’t fault you for changing. It’s human nature to adapt to your surroundings. I was the one that should have been loyal to you.
On one hand I hope you don’t overdose on something before we see each other again. On the other, I don’t want to see you again, because I don’t know what we’d talk about. But I clearly have some stuff on my chest; so maybe it wouldn’t be too bad to catch up. Even if we don’t, I hope you’re still popular and still have a girlfriend. I hope you’re still…you, after all this time.
