**Note: This a guest submission from one of my friends who wished to remain anonymous.
A friend once told me through a handwritten letter that she wanted to go back to the night we met. Not the day when we first ran into each other in middle school and become friends. Not the last day she spent with us in high school before moving out of state. But the night when she came back to visit her relatives and friends. In her letter, she wrote that had so many things she wanted to talk about but she couldn’t. She continued to write that she felt as if the entire world has given up on her. For a moment that we spent conversing and catching up, she felt as if someone cared. However, she wrote she got scared because she didn’t know who she can trust anymore.
It wasn’t just her that wanted to go back to that night. After I finished reading her letter, I thought the same thing. I vaguely remember about how she quit talking about her school and everyday life and didn’t want to continue. Moreover, I clearly remember she just looked so dead exhausted as if she was at dead’s end. She was, I had sensed it but I ignored it because I thought she’d told me one day. Only I wasn’t expecting for her to tell me through a letter. That night I went to sleep like usual, but I couldn’t get a good night rest. The following morning, I was just restless.
I went to school and by the end of the day I learned that out of all her friends in high school, I was the only one to receive a letter and the only who she contacted at least two or three times a year when she got married. All the possible signs were there, she showed it that night and through the times when we chat online. I felt…foolish for not doing anything. I felt that I hadn’t been a good friend for her. That night, I used to think to myself, I should have continued to talk to her, introduce her to my new friends, and the very least let her know that she was still part of my life that I still cared about her. Instead, I chose to walk away.