I’m sorry about our falling out. Please don’t hate me for it.

We both grew up, but we grew in different directions. I still love you every bit as much as I once did, but the cool distance you’ve created between our souls radiates even when you are near.

We can’t pretend it doesn’t exist; it would be foolish to imagine we could go back to the way we were when we were kids– when we would run around, our imaginations communicating thoughts without words.

I long for that once more, to live in the mindset of carelessness, never needing anything but you by my side.

Why couldn’t we have stayed like that? Chasing dreams as if they were obtainable, but you told me they all were. And I believed you. Maybe I still do. The belief that lived in your eyes could have made me believe I could touch the stars, and maybe I did.

I climb to the top of the highest tree and looking out over our kingdom, one that is now lost with every innocent memory that once was. All that we had, all that we imagined into reality, has worn with the distance, not in person but in spirit.

How I long I could go back and anchor our naive selves to the ground of that playground, to the basement fort that covered all fears of tomorrow, all threats of growing old. If I was able to keep us in those moments, as pure and fragile as they were, then maybe I would not be afraid to even touch you with simple words as I am now.

The fragileness of those memories was proven as they could not stand the test of times, and now there is no hope of an anchor to save us. I look at you and attempt to trace your soul as I once could, knowing every line, every ditch that you were so ashamed of. You’ve never had anything to be ashamed of.

I still believe I could touch the stars if you asked me to, but it nearly breaks me to know that even simple words such as “trust me” cannot– will not–escape your mouth.

Before, we did not need words to communicate the workings of our mind. And how I long to go back to those moments where although verbal sounds did not escape our lips, at least we were still speaking. We still talked. But now, I cannot ever climb high enough to the kingdom you threw me out of.

The saddest part of losing you was not that it happened, but rather how it did. It was not for any reason in particular; you simply committed the biggest crime we worked so hard to not perform: you sacrificed our youth for knowledge, and now I see you and realize how you chose growth over me.

And so I remain, an outcast in my own kingdom, our kingdom.

Why did you have to leave, to grow away? We could have stayed that way forever, but as you left the throne that was beside me, I found myself stumbling behind you on the path you followed. That path was never meant for me, and it was not until recently that I realized it. But I would have followed you anywhere– you were my partner, and I was yours.

But who abandons a kingdom? We had everything.

I could no longer follow you into a place that was unknown, your unknown. You had to discover that part of our vast country on your own, and I realize now that it was always inevitable. So I do not blame you for growing, and I hope you do not blame me for leaving you. For although you left our kingdom, you knew I would follow, and I am so sorry if it broke you when you turned around to find that I was no longer there.

And now we are separated. By crevices. By distance. By growth. I have never been so close to you and yet not able to see you. You can no longer understand me, and this language barrier became too much to bear. Maybe it was both of us who caused all we once possessed to crumble.

Every kingdom falls, but maybe I just didn’t expect ours to so soon. I would still go back; I would go back to chasing dreams as if I could ever catch them. But we can’t go back, and maybe you don’t even want to.

But please, come sit. No games, no pretense. Just words. Maybe if we use them, we will stop sending mixed signals. Maybe we can piece this back together if you would like to. I know I do. So please, see this seat as the throne you once sat upon.

Just don’t leave without assuring that you don’t hate me.