Love Letters

By; CompulsiveLiar

Dear Jon,

I'm sorry I haven't written in a while. I really am sorry about that; if I wouldn't have heard about the wedding, I would have continued writing you nearly every day. But, after I heard, I didn't have the will to do anything anymore.

Please, don't feel bad. I haven't seen you in years, so it isn't your fault. It's mine. When my parents made me move to Florida, I swore I would come back for you someday. I told you I'd come back to New Jersey, and I lied. That's why I can't feel sorry for myself, because I know that I'm the one who brought this upon myself. I didn't keep my promise. Maybe it was when you realized that I wouldn't keep my promise, that I would never return, that you decided to get married.

I'm sorry that I didn't go to that, too. I know you invited me and everything, and the least I could have done was show up. But when I got that invitation in the mail, I didn't know what to think. I didn't know what I should do, because it only then sank in that I'd never have you back again. I wish I would have come back.

That was three years ago, the wedding. Since then, you haven't tried to call me, write me, nothing. I did the same. I'm sorry I haven't had the heart. I haven't had time.

Did you know what I finally got published? My artwork, I mean. Remember how you always forced me to draw pictures for you because you thought I was good? I remember that. You told me that someday I would make it. What do you know? You were right. You were usually right, no matter how much I absolutely resent admitting that. Anyway, somebody took all of my work and compiled it. In book formation. If you really wanted to, you could probably buy it. Somewhere. If you looked really, really hard. It's got flowers on the front, and my face is on the inside sleeve.

I remember how you always got me flowers for my birthday. I always looked forward to my birthday because I wanted to know so badly what kind of flowers I would get.

That last bouquet I got from you was roses. They didn't die for a long time, but I cried when I eventually had to throw them out. I felt like you were really gone right then, even though you still sometimes called me on the phone. I felt like that was the beginning of the end, and it was.

There's a lot that's happened that I still haven't told you about. You remember Zack, right? It's okay if you don't. We dated for a while, but we're seperated now. I'm not really sure where he's at, or where he's gone to. One day, he just disappeared, so to speak. Left town. He left me and Liz, you know.

She's a lot older since I last sent you a picture. She's got big blue eyes, like mine.

I miss you a lot, Jon. You were my best friend. I'm sure that if you were here, you'd know just what to say. I wish you were here with me. Right now.

Do you remember that night I snuck over to your house? It was the night before the big move. I ran over to your house, a few streets away, and you let me in. I think that you might have known it then, that it would be the last time you saw me. I didn't know it. I thought we would always see each other again. I thought we would always come back for each other.

You took my coat from me and you led me up to your room. It was really late, a little past midnight. You didn't want to turn on the lights in your room because you said it would wake up your parents. I said it was okay.

And we layed on your bed for at least an hour, hardly saying anything. I might have told you how weird it was that you were growing a beard. You had a little stubble, and it was rough on my fingers. It was foreign to me, but you just laughed.

"I like it," you said.

I told you I liked it, too. And then I started crying. That's when I questioned whether or not we would ever be like that ever again. It was the first time.

You didn't really know what to do, or what to say, but you did what you could. You just held me and told me not to worry about it. You said that we would always be friends. But now I can see that you were just telling me that so I wouldn't feel so bad. You knew we wouldn't stay friends forever. If I can think back that far, I can see it in your eyes.

Sometimes I think about actually sending you these letters. I've got tons. They're all in two boxes in my bedroom closet. I wonder if you would care if I sent you a letter. Maybe you wouldn't do anything about it because you were mad. Probably because I missed your wedding. Which I am really sorry about, really.

But you probably wouldn't write back because after reading this, you'd know that I still love you, and that I wish you hadn't gone and gotten married. I'm happy for you, but I'm not happy. Do you see what I mean?

Sorry, enough about my feelings. I'm just glad you're doing okay.

It's late. I have to put Liz to bed.

I love you. And I know it's been a while. But I still love you.

Claire.