Dear Lost Boy: An Open Letter

Dear Lost Boy,

I don't know if you'll ever read this, but maybe that's for the best.

Lost Boy. Strange name for you, I'll admit, but I think it's fitting. In a way, you've always been a little bit lost when it comes to who you are and where you're trying to go. Like the map in your mind has an end goal, but the way there is confusing and mixed up and scary and there's so many twists and turns in the path that you think you may never get there.

And I think that's part of why I liked you so much. You took on life like it was an adventure to be had, and all you needed was a little music and a few sunsets to get through the rough patches. I've always had a deeply realistic view of life with a streak of optimism running through it, but you were always the idealist: head in the clouds with only one foot on the ground, because why stay on Earth when the galaxy was yours for the taking? Where only my fingertips would usually brush the clouds, you went barreling into the sky like it was home.

Lost Boy, I'm so sorry.

You and I have been friends for years, and then I let my heart go chasing after you. And so we became more than that. We had good times, I can't argue with that, but we also had some not so good ones along the way too. You taught me to be even sillier than I knew I could be, and to embrace being wholeheartedly comfortable with someone else and not worry about irrelevant things. You consistently reminded me to laugh and not be so serious all the time, the way I can tend to be sometimes.

But you also sent my anxiety through the roof.

I never knew if you would show up on time for plans, or if you would show up at all.  I flinched every time your voice rose in frustration or when it shook because bad news was on its way. I thought my days of panic attacks were over, but in trying to keep up with you and keep myself sane, I started to descend back into an anxious state even more severe than I had dealt with before. I couldn't be the girl you needed because that girl was slowly disappearing under the weight of uncontrollable sobs and a body that would shake so hard at night that sleep might as well have been a myth.

You really never changed that much while we were together, and that's a good and a bad thing. Good because you were steady and consistent, but bad because that meant the things you did that made me anxious never went away. Clashing schedules and cancelled plans weren't the reason I left, but they were the reason I hurted. And I began to stop liking you in the way where my heart used to flutter at the thought of you, and my eyes used to pick you out first in a crowd. It wasn't really because you'd done something wrong; it was more because I began to realize that the things that made us different were things that rubbed me the wrong way instead of complimenting each other. I couldn't see myself marrying you in the future, and it felt selfish to keep you with me when I wouldn't ever be able to love you the way you deserved to be loved.

Lost Boy, you always told me that you were fragile. But you are also unbelievably strong. Remember when I told you I was a glass canon? Strong, yet easily breakable sometimes too? You remind me a little bit of that too, except you don't realize how much potential and wonderful things you can do because you're so caught up in what you do wrong. Even though I won't be there for you in this way, I will still be here as a close friend. And as your friend, I hope you find yourself these coming years in college and beyond. This world is scary and unpredictable, but there's so much goodness just waiting to be found: I hope you find it and I hope you hold it close.

We're both still so young, Lost Boy, so don't think of this as the end of an era. Think of it as the fresh start you always wanted to have.

I'm rooting for you.

Love,