To My 5th Grade Friend 

I often see you on instagram, and I see that you’re a photographer now. I never comment- or like even, but I always end up making some mental note; like your aesthetic isn’t something that I would’ve chosen in a hundred years. Well, maybe I would’ve,  had I been the person who was asked for suggestions. But I wasn’t. And even though this is probably resentment speaking, with each scrolling photo, I can’t help imagining the person sitting next to you helping make your vision come to life, knowing that once used to be me. 

I know we’re not friends anymore, and I’ve made my peace with it. Still, the last post you made captured grass the exact same blurry way we used to when we were figuring out your new camera twelve years ago. You’re a photographer now, and I’m just a far-away creepy observer, occasionally finding myself stumbling on ‘noorthepicturekid’ at 2am on a sleepless night. Your aesthetic isn’t something I would have chosen in a hundred years, yet I am in awe of it, seeing how perfectly you’ve built it from the 2006 Sony Digicam dreams. 

We’re not friends anymore because we grew apart; because you did some things that no friend should do and I did some things that every kid would do. And I’m not waiting for any closure, or apology, or a confession that our friendship ending messed you up the same way as it did me, because I’ve long moved on since (or have I?). Because even after twelve stupid years, when I see the lighting that you use for the cut in your eyebrow or the way that you capture grass, I can’t help but imagine being there, being the one who tells you to post it.

But I’m never going to say any of this to you, even if I ever see you again; I’m probably going to pretend I don’t even recognise you. Because it probably wouldn’t be 2 am then, and I’d probably be in a lot more senses. So I’ll just write this letter, thinking maybe it’ll find you someday.

All my thoughts,

Someone Who Still Thinks About You