Dear Ryan,

I remember when we were in high school together, talking about getting a place in NYC and decorating it with Urban Outfitters. We gleefully sang random songs together, drew funny pictures in class, and listened to classical music like the nerds we are. I’ll never forget when my mum walked in during a certain scene of a movie we were watching, and you explained that the nudity was “artistic.”

We helped each other through drama. When I was done with (yet another) dirtbag, you were one of the only people who could make me feel pretty. When your family gave you a hard time, I brought you into mine. My parents always liked to brag about their “son.” You were like a brother to me.

I wish you hadn’t gone to that other school in that other town. I wish that you hadn’t met those friends. I wish that you had better parents, who would give you love and acceptance so that you wouldn’t have to search in other places.

I wish we had never let our friendship die. I tried to explain that it had absolutely nothing to do with you being gay, but I don’t think that you ever really believed that someone who loved God could really love you. It wasn’t even the drugs, though those did bug me. You just weren’t the same guy. You left sweet and sensitive, and came back hardened and bitter. Caring wasn’t cool anymore, and you had nothing nice to say about anyone, especially the one who loved you the most.

I wish that I could have handled our problems better. I was already tired and hurting physically, mentally, and emotionally. When things didn’t look good, I retreated into myself and didn’t come out until you were gone. I am so sorry for that, and I always will be.

I miss my best friend. Other people have come and gone, but you were something special. Sometimes I hope we’ll cross paths, do some catching up, and never part ways again. I know that things don’t usually work that way, but I still hope they will for us.

I love you, my Teddy Bear. I never stopped loving you.

Sincerely,

Sarah, age 20