Five years ago, you wrote me something that you never thought I would read, or maybe you did and that’s why you left it up. And now, I want to write you something that I don’t know if you’ll ever read as well.

I still remember under what circumstances we met ten years ago. You were the new girl in the ragtag group of girls we did “traditional” Chinese dance with, and just two days older than me. I liked you immediately, especially since you always had a book with you and reading was my favorite activity at the time. It still is, arguably. I was sad when I had to leave my elementary school friends for a middle school on the other side of town, but you were there, so it wasn’t too lonely. I still remember so clearly those school lunches in sixth grade – sometimes we wouldn’t even talk to each other because we were reading, but the silence was comforting. It was safe.

How many books do you think we read between us during those three years of middle school? It must have been at least a couple hundred, right?

Everything changed in seventh grade, you were right. I can’t say that I’m sorry about changing, although I am sorry that you felt like you had to give up parts of yourself to keep me as your best friend. But we still shared so many great memories – winning the book trivia competition that year, taking art lessons every Tuesday night (I still remember how much you hated your dolphin that time we painted on these absurdly large canvases), and trick-or-treating together on Halloween. However, I was becoming more insecure, especially since I was unhappy with the way I looked then, and you were always so much better at school than I was.

When you’re thirteen years old, you don’t truly know yourself. I wish I knew when I was thirteen who my true friends were, and how unfair of me it was to leave you behind as I tried to fit into a group of friends whom I had little in common with. I wish I understood and tried to comfort you more when you struggled with your weight. I wish I hadn’t turned away.

Life has taken us in very opposite directions. I knew that when I came back briefly at the end of sophomore year, because I was no longer accepted in our group of friends. I knew deep down that I had betrayed everyone to an extent, especially you, and I can say sorry until my face is blue, but my apologies will fall on deaf ears.

How are you now? What kind of person are you? What would you say to me if we were in front of each other again? Or would you pretend you didn’t know me at all?

I hope you still love books as much as I do.