An Open Letter: Resistance

We live 130 miles a part, a relatively short distance all things considered, but it’s not the long winding roads or scenic country that separate us from one another. No, the distance between you and I stretches further than miles. It’s a distance transcendent of the of the physical world.

There was a time when even inconsequential things brought us together. We liked the trivial, frivolous banter. You would call, we would go for a walk, or exchange words between classes. You came to me for mostly everything, at least for awhile. I noticed it the first year of high school- so very long ago it seems now- when I realized we began to run in different circles. You with the crowd and I on the side. I never believed the change was intentional and I tried to ignore it, but I grew a certain resentment for your new friends. I even refused to entertain the idea of getting to know them at first. I tried harder after those first two years; I strove to be part of your life again and went out of my way for you. By the time graduation came it was far too late. I dare say we began to grow back together there in the end, but I just couldn’t be that friend anymore- I could never cater to the crowd you chose. You were my best friend. You were the first to know my secrets and held my deepest trust.

I made another attempt to salvage all that we had lost, an invitation into my new world. We’d both grown in the last four years of grade school and were finally prepared to embark on another adventure in life. I was to go away, 130 miles, and you were to stay. Leaving was a choice I had made a long time ago- I was committed- but I’ll always wonder if staying would have made any difference at all. Come spend the weekend with me, I had asked. I wanted you to see my new apartment and experience a few days in my shoes. I thought you might like it after so long under your parents roof because though you could not see it, freedom was a thing you needed. More than that I needed my best friend. Everything was so new, so empty, and I felt alone despite the fact that several hundred people lived all around me. It wasn’t home, and those weren’t my friends. Not yet. The first night was the worst because the freshman took it upon themselves to drink until they spilled their stomachs from the balcony above my window. The days did get better and nights became manageable. Thankfully my boyfriend at the time had  moved in to make the party-town apartment more tolerable. I introduced you two a long time ago however briefly. Although you never voiced it I do not believe you approved. A lot has happened since then and we drifted a part, all for the better. I want to tell you all about that, and more.

I never got a weekend of your time, not even a few hours. I later came back to our hometown to visit and we met briefly- an exchange that ended abruptly with awkward goodbyes. You seemed to be doing well for the most part, at least you said nothing to contrary. I took it for what it was and I will leave it as it is. I wish I could share these things with you like we used to. Back then it seemed like we never ran out of things to talk about, but now I can only get a few words out of you every other month or three. I often wonder if there was something I could have done, but people say this is just how life is: there one day, and gone the next. Maybe things will change, but I reserve my doubts because we both know the next step in my plan and you’ve already decided to stay. I doubt that the further I go will make a difference because the problem is no longer simply distance. It’s become resistance.

© 2014, Written By: Hollie Barringer



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