[Day 217] If you could see me now

Dear Bart,

I had planned on writing you this letter right before you left for boot camp, but since I haven’t heard from you in weeks and you won’t answer my texts or emails, I decided now was a good time.

First, I’d just like to throw something out there. Remember that time that you filled out those Facebook surveys and had to answer the question “who is your best friend?”, and you answered “Joel and Bri”? That was one of the happiest moments in my life. Not the happiest, mind you, but it was definitely up there. And you know why? Because it feels nice to be recognized sometimes. Because you don’t usually label me as your best friend like I do to you. So that moment really reverberated with me.

But that doesn’t happen very often, and it was probably more than a year ago now. I understand that you’re not the gooey type, and I understand that you’re fairly solitary. Come on, though. Don’t I deserve a text reply once in a while, as your best friend? As the person who cares about you more than she should?

I heard that your grandpa died, and I’m sorry. That must have been hard. But you know how I heard about it? Facebook. I went onto your profile and saw someone had posted a consoling message about it.

Why didn’t you tell me yourself? I assume that’s why you’ve been so silent the past few weeks, and I understand that you need time to grieve. But you can’t just drop off the face of the Earth and expect me not to mind. And you certainly can’t expect me not to care. I’m always here for you. Don’t you know that by now?

We’ve been through a lot, the two of us. We’ve seen the high highs and low, low, LOW lows. And we’ve only known each other for about two years. That’s something special, to feel a connection so deep after so little time.

Last year, when you announced your intention to join the military, you promised to write me letters. You said to me, “Bri, if you write me letters, I’ll reply as much as I can.” I guess I didn’t realize that you were going to cut me out of your life before it came to that.

I miss you. As your friend, I just want to know when you’re ok.

I don’t know how else to get through to you. Maybe you don’t want to talk to me about this stuff, and that’s fine. I respect your time to grieve. But at least give me a heads up next time, eh? This situation is eerily similar to what happened with Dylan, and I don’t know if I could handle that again. Not with you.

Just text me, tell me you’re ok. We still need to go rock climbing.

Bri