We sat through teenage trouble, the kind that makes you wish you were eighteen and free from high school hell.
Survived the loss of friends — both close and not so close — to emerge from it all with a gentle understanding that perhaps we “got” each other just a little better than anyone else.

I told you secrets of my life, welcomed you into the world through my not-so-clear glasses. You drew me the inner workings of your mind, painted the way you understood it all even if we didn’t see eye to eye.
There were times where you or I would cry and the other would just sit by wordlessly because that’s all we needed in that moment, to know someone cared.

We fought so many battles — some with one and other — but always came out strong.
You told me how you loved her, and her, and her. I told you how I love him, and him, and him.
There was nothing we couldn’t share, except a bitter darkness that glowed inside like molten rock slowly burning its way through our core.
And that is when the first bridge fell, and that is where it still remains.

Through ten long years we’ve done it all, or not enough as I would say.
But when you vanished from my life with no warning or explanation I assumed another tether had been cut loose but that was OK because we were fate.
So now three months are gone while I write these words that I probably won’t publish; While I wonder if the text that I sent will get a response unlike the others.

How many sentances will you utter that I won’t finish, and how many inside jokes will go unnoticed as our united world slowly becomes two seperate spaces?
Perhaps I’m overthinking and this is just one of those things long-term friends go through. Or maybe it is the quiet end to a loud and wondrous, not so easily forgotten, never have another you kind of friendship.