Memories, Hanging on a Thread

When I search through old pictures I find pictures of you. I find screenshots of our conversations from four years ago, conversations I don’t even remember having. I wonder at how your pictures ended up on my computer, because I’m not quite sure. But they immediately evoke feelings of another time, another place – the days when we were so, so close – and it’s not as if we aren’t close now, but things have changed.

Things have changed, and we can’t go back.

I miss you.

I miss talking to you for hours every day. I miss sending each other pictures of our lives. I miss our nightly discussions, debating great philosophical questions as they applied to us. I miss the camaraderie of the home we created, the place where people didn’t have to worry about being judged based on their age. I miss recognizing each other’s flaws, knowing which responsibilities you could take on and which ones I’d be better off taking. I miss the time when we had the power and the platform to make each other happy – every single day.

I hope I will meet you someday. If there’s this much undefinable nostalgia, I know I can’t just let you go.

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