Letter No. 2

An apology to a very old friend.

Hello, Old Friend,

I am writing to inform you that I am incredibly sorry, but I am giving it up.

If there is one thing you have taught me, it is that people change. We evolve, shape shift, until there is not only our original form, buried deep down below, but everything else that we have become. When you and I used to talk, I was in a very, very bad place. So you did what you did best. You helped me. You distracted me for so long that I almost felt like my normal self again, and although I was still in that very, very bad place, I felt a bit more like ME.

It was only after you were gone that I started to crumble again.

You remember what you gave me, don't you? When you left? I still have it. It sits atop my picture frame, your handwriting still as illegible as ever, and it is there when I wake up every morning, and it is there when I go to bed every night.

That is my reminder of who I used to be.

Please don't think that I am giving it up because it makes me unhappy. It doesn't. It just doesn't make me happy like it once used to do. Now, that part of me is dead and buried, but I am so very glad that is how you remember me. When we meet again, I'm not sure you'll recognise me anymore. But I want you to know that it is still very much a part of me, from the steady metronome of my heart to the dancing of my fingers. I've just changed.

Remember me, for we shall meet again.

Thank you,

Me.