I drove past your house the other day, the one you lived in when I first met you. Of course you weren’t there, you had moved away more than five years ago, but in those few seconds that it took to pass by, all the memories came back, and with those memories came the emotions too.
That time had been hard for me, I had felt so alone and hopeless then. I was terrified that I would end up alone and empty, and that I would remain nothing to everyone. I hated myself, I felt like an outsider everywhere I went, I thought that no one would ever truly want my company. But then you proved me wrong.
I don’t know why you started to talk to me, but you did, and though I was hesitant at first, I slowly began to open up to you and let you in. You gave me hope, you made me feel wanted and accepted. I didn’t know if you would ever want to be anything more than friends, but slowly, I began to let myself fall for you even though everything inside me was screaming that I shouldn’t. Maybe I should have listened. It was because of those feelings for you that I ended up ruining our friendship. I never should have told you how I felt, it was selfish of me. I should have waited until we were both older and both knew what love really meant.
But that was the past, and the past can’t be changed. So I kept driving, watching the house disappear into the night until only street lights were visible in my car’s mirrors. You didn’t live there anymore anyway, but I still found myself wanting to turn back. I didn’t want to leave like that, so quietly, like I had never even been there—the way that you had left me. I wanted to drive up that driveway, past those two trees in your front yard that had grown so close together, past that spot in the grass where we had lain beside each other, trying to catch our breaths after playing outside with our siblings—that had been the moment when I knew that I couldn’t let my fears keep us from being friends, that look in your eyes had been so warm and welcoming, I wanted us to be friends, and maybe, someday, eventually more… I would then park beside the garage, walk past the bushes that lined the walkway to the stairs, up those seventeen steps to the porch, past the swing where I had once sat, wishing for someone to truly see me, and then I would stop at your front door. But it wouldn’t have been yours anymore and I would be unable to go any further. Going back there would do nothing but remind me more of you. So I kept driving, letting my thoughts fade into the night until all that was left was a quiet emptiness that screamed silently into a void that could never hear me.