Lila

I hope you are doing well

*Desktop PC recommended for optimal reading experience

Small town, small school, big hearts.

Each day was a Christmas morning for us five-year-olds.

I loved all the show-and-tells, Simon says, baby carrot snacks and story shares,

but my favorite time of all was when we would braid each other's hair.

I would sometimes playfully say I wish I was blonde.

You would tell me my hair is much prettier in response.

Sad how most memories are blurry now.

Still, I remember that day when our recess was outdoors, when you asked me to hand you all my acorns. I told you I have been saving them for the squirrels, and you stomped and walked away without picking a quarrel. We had our friendship rules, I was pretty sure you broke it. But I looked for you around the whole playground, checking every stool. Turned out you were hiding behind the fence picking on Kevin's baseball mitt. I handed you all the acorns, dirt-smeared and sweat-stained. You wouldn't believe how relieved I was with your hug—oh, to be reaccepted. Sarah's birthday party was coming around, and I was scared you wouldn't sit next to me at Chuck E. Cheese again. I guess I wasn't that different then.

And I hate myself for trying to turn this into another story of abuse.

I feel ridiculous, I feel like a paranoid recluse.

But I have been trying to find a reason.

And this is how far I've come, my rationality in depletion.

Forget it all, because I have never not missed you.

This is just another histrionic I perform because I can't reach you.

I hope you are happy though,

I really do.