Lonely Boy

I was happy to be invited to your birthday party – I didn’t have many friends, so it was a bit of a new experience to me. My mom made sure we got you a nice gift, though I can’t remember what it was. I’m sure we were happy as always to just spend time together.

After you opened your gifts, your mother handed me a gift bag. It wasn’t my party, I didn’t understand. Inside was a copy of Pokemon Red – and despite my memory lacking in this regard, I’m certain this was a bigger gift than what I had got you.

I was happy to have it, but I remember leaving with this strange mix of confusion and guilt. My mom seemed comparatively confused. I think they were thanking me for being there. Because despite having few friends myself, I think you might have only had me. Just me.

Every time I look back on us, I have this similar feeling. I don’t understand you, how we split apart so distinctly from one another. It’s almost nauseating to look back on someone you were once so close to and realize there’s nothing there – certainly not a desire to reconnect. I’ve gone through several friendships that didn’t work out, but I guess the first stings the most – or maybe it hurts so bad because you’re one of the few things I’ve hung on to from those desolate early years.

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