Yeah, I’ve started calling you that again. I never really stopped in my head, I just ignored it the best I could. Anyways, I guess this is the part where I get to be all mushy about the past four years in high school.
This won’t be the first letter to you that I’ll write. During the past year, I think I’ve filled quite a few pages in my journal with angry letters to you. I always wrote them, slammed the book shut, and never looked at them again. I plan to burn the journal in the future. I was angry with myself more than anything, for lacking the ability to forgive. You taught me a very important lesson in that. People aren’t perfect, they will make mistakes. And if you love them, forgiveness is the only way to end the hurt.
But honestly, if I’m going to be mushy about anyone, its you. In 9th grade, I had already started calling you my best friend, spilling my guts to you on walks around the neighborhood, and just being content with being around you. Of course, your demeanor did not satisfy me, you were too quiet, too shy, too reclusive, and just really too anything along those lines. I still poured everything to you anyways. I’m sorry for putting you through hearing all those stories about boys and nothing else. I realize that it was rather annoying. I remember reading about how much you were tired of hearing those stories on your blog that summer that I stumbled upon it. It’s sort of hard to remember what 9th grade and 10th grade were like. I remember being busy but always having time to take walks, getting annoyed at each other during the winter, and just being close or at least what I thought was close.
I’m sorry that I made you feel like what I did was okay. I’m even more sorry now that we’ve grown up and I can see my obvious negative influences on you which led to so much conflict. I’m not ever going to be okay with some of the choices that you make because of this negative influence on your life that I give myself credit for. Its hard to remember that you make your own choices sometimes, I always seem to feel guilt. Maybe this is what parents feel like after they have raised a child. Ughh. I don’t know why I feel so terrible all the time.
I will never be able to write your senior letter.