I don’t know much about you, but I can infer some things.
I think you are someone who cares about your belongings.
Like your copy of Spoon River Anthology, for example.
Photo Credit: pinterest.com
I think you care about it because you stamped it twice – once inside the front cover and once inside the back.
Maybe you just didn’t want to lose it and for it to be returned to you if it ever did get lost. But, if that’s the case, how did it end up in a used bookstore in a town 3,000 miles away?
I would want to know which poems are your favorites, but it seems like you never read them. The pages are nearly perfect, despite being printed in 1962.
I wish I could ask you some questions.
How old were you when you bought it? How old are you now? Why didn’t you read it? How did it end up with me?
I don’t know who you are, but I want to say thank you. Your book that was originally sold for 95 cents is now my book that was sold to me for three dollars.
And now I have a story within a story, thanks to you.
I’m not sure if you still live in New York or if any of my assumptions about you were correct or if you’re even a person at all.
But just in case I was right, once I finish the book, I’ll send it back to you.
I used to think we were, but I also used to think that you told me everything. I thought you trusted me. It wasn’t until recently that I found out I was wrong.
I’ve always been aware of just how different we are but that never mattered to me. I would do just about anything to relate to you. The older I get the more I understand that we are different people.
Your friends are nothing like my friends and for the past four years it seems like you would rather be with them than with me whenever possible. Why do you choose to be close with certain people, why do you try so hard to be like them?
Sometimes I feel like we’re making progress, and then the next day I feel like you’re more distant than ever.
I want you to care about me. I want you to like me. And I know that you do, but you show it so rarely that I almost always forget.
So when you do little things like not inviting me places or blocking me on social media – things that normally wouldn’t bother me coming from people I don’t care about – it feels like betrayal.
Even when you are so unkind and when you act like you don’t care, I always forgive you. Maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to forgive, but I want you to accept me so badly that I pretend not to be bothered.
Sometimes I think you don’t have very good judgement and it scares me. I worry that you don’t take care of yourself. I worry about you more than you know.
When you let me in it means the world. When you shut me out it makes me feel like I don’t matter. And you don’t even realize it.
Maybe it will be better when we’re older. Maybe I’ll just have to accept that we’re different people, that we have different goals and different views. Maybe I just care more than you do, maybe I shouldn’t care so much.
The last time I thought about you was a few weeks ago.
It was because some friends and I were discussing the best animated Disney movies. As we went through the list, the title Brother Bear popped into my head, and I immediately began expressing my love for the film, declaring it my personal favorite.
Now that I think about it, I don’t even really remember what happens in the movie. I vaguely recall a plot about two brothers who turn into bears, then turn back into humans, then decide to turn back into bears – or maybe something sort of like that.
I didn’t realize that I miss you until tonight, and I think part of the reason why it started to hurt so much is simply because I wasn’t even aware I missed you.
The last time you called was to wish me happy birthday, and that was four months ago. I can’t remember the last time I saw you.
Ever since you moved out, we’ve gradually lost touch. Now when you come to visit I feel a sort of distance between us. Maybe it’s because you’re over a decade older than I am, but even still, when I was in kindergarten and you were in high school I remember you used to laugh at my jokes, or at least pretend to laugh at them.
Now it feels like we don’t have anything in common. When you do come home to visit you’d rather sit with Dad in the kitchen than come play video games with us. It didn’t used to be like that. But even if you do choose to spend time with your siblings, it would probably mean throwing around a ball in the yard with our brother, and I would either sit and watch you both or just stay inside.
Image Credit: Disney,com
I remember you babysitting while our parents weren’t home, how you used to sit us on your bed and then flop onto it beside us to see how high we would bounce.
I remember the countless hours we spent in the pool. I would cling onto your back like a leech, and even though it annoyed you you let me stay there. I remember the first time I went down the slide I sat on your lap because I was too little to go by myself. Or when you would throw me up in the air and how it felt like I was flying, how time stopped and I was weightless, until I finally splashed back into the water.
I used to think of you as a superhero, and in some ways I guess I still do. I believed everything you told me and never questioned it, not just because you were so much older and wiser, but simply because you were my big brother.
I always took our time together for granted. It’s been some five years since you graduated college, and even when you were still in school you barely lived at home. I know you’re still looking around for what you want to do, and I know you might be unsure even though you wouldn’t admit it. I just hope you’re happy.
You’re always busy. It’s either work or a softball tournament or plans with friends. You never come on vacation with us anymore. I don’t blame you one bit, that’s just life. But sometimes I wish you would try a little bit harder to make time for me.
I like to imagine that you’d live closer to me if it weren’t for your girlfriend. Don’t get me wrong, I think she is very good to you and very lovely, but sometimes I can’t help thinking that maybe if you weren’t with her I would get to see you more often.
It’s hard for me to believe that you’re grown up now. I don’t want to believe it.
Looking back to that movie conversation with friends, the reason why I vied for Brother Bear so intently was because it reminded me of you. Maybe you remember the nights when I wanted to sleepover in your room. When I did, that’s what we always watched – because it was your favorite movie.
Even though you’ll never see this and I’ll never tell you, know that I love you very much, and I miss you.
If there was a rainbow
connected the worlds between you and me
Even though nothing was happening
I could not help myself from smiling
because I was thinking about you
You were not that kind of magnificent beauty
you were just a quiet rainbow that emerges peacefully after a rain
but beautiful enough to reflect endlessly in my heart
If there was a rainbow
stretched the distance between you and me
I would run towards the end
to embrace the shadow of your light
and meet you who was running towards me at the same time
Everybody told me that long distance would be trouble. That it would hurt. That it wouldn’t be worth all the stress–especially during my senior year.
But I, being the stubborn love-struck puppy I was, didn’t listen. Nope. I didn’t want to believe what people said, so I didn’t. I told myself that it would be easy.
Now, here I am sitting in my room in Ojai, California. 2643.071 miles away from my boyfriend of two and a half years.
It’s funny. In the beginning, I had kind of wished Kai was a recluse that veered away from any female contact.
But again, the beginning was the hardest part. The time difference made it even worse. He was already at school when I would wake up most days and by the time study hall ended, it was around 12:30 in the morning where he was.
And boy, would we argue. Over the most minuscule things. I argued because we were so far. He argued because of the time difference. We argued because we missed each other. We argued. And. We argued.
I began to wonder if they were right. If long distance was too much for me to handle. It seemed, with all my college applications and school work, that they might be right.
But, as much as we fought and as much as I hated the distance, I did not want to give up.
And I didn’t. Things got better, and I honestly don’t think that long distance is all that horrible. Sure, it takes a while to get used to but if you love him (or her), all of those frustrations–those initial arguments, getting used to the time difference–was worth the greater moments when I would get to hear his voice on the phone or see his face on Skype.
I still miss him dearly and love him so much. And I don’t regret choosing to be in this long distance relationship with him. He makes me happy although I don’t get to be with him nearly as much as I did last year which turned out to be a good thing. I have more time for friends and more importantly, when I do get to see him, it makes it all the more special. It’s almost like we just started dating. There isn’t anybody I’d rather have than him.
So let me tell you from my experience that eventually, distance truly does make the heart grow fonder.
Best friends never grow apart, no matter the distance between them.
Wendy Lin has been a part of my life ever since my first year at OVS. Wendy was a prefect in my wing-she lived right across from me. Living in such close proximity, it was just a matter of time before a friendship blossomed. I was new, scared, and excited to come to this new school but Wendy let me feel just at home. She showed me around, and explained boarding school life to me. With her kindness, living away from home was easy and my life at Ojai Valley School began.
I don’t remember really fighting with Wendy. We have gotten mad, annoyed, or overwhelmed with each other at times, but we’ve never raised our voices at each other. Wendy and I generally agree on everything, or settle on things. We have a lot of things in common and a lot of things that make us individual people. I think that is a key factor to our friendship. We both look out for each other’s benefits, we make sure we don’t make stupid mistakes (and tell each other when we are being stupid), and we are sisters.
For the first half of the school year, Wendy decided to take her life in a new direction. She went to Santa Barbara High School for one semester and that was her first public school experience. She loved it, but she realized that this year, her junior year, was an integral part of her high school curriculum and her future college acceptances. Wendy, now, is back and we don’t feel any strange awkwardness or distance between us. I love her, and I am glad to have her back.
Four years strong, our friendship has only grown from the young, naive eighth grade girls that we were. Four years strong, and we can boast that we have never fought before. Four years strong, Wendy Lin has left and grown up in the public school’s eye. Four years strong, and she has returned to the school we had first met and next year, we will be five years strong, graduating on the same stage together, just as we had our 8th grade year.
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