Talking to you on Facebook tonight was strange. It was almost as though I’d never really met you properly; as though we were casual acquaintances. I think that that was my fault much more than it was yours – these things usually are – but it was the oddest thing. Not what I’d expected at all.
What I want to do right now, what I’d give anything to have the chance to do, is to give you a hug. I can feel your tiny little waist in your jogging bottoms and your Year 11, and then your Year 13, Leavers’ Hoodie in my arms still. I would give anything, more than anything, for you to be here tonight. I want to play Evil Baby and swaying so that we can see our reflections in the mirror with you. I want it to be you and me and me and you.
I’m listening to a playlist I’ve made for you. It’s got One Day Like This by Elbow on it. That’s the first time I’ve bought a piece of music and you’ve really loved it. I’d forgotten that, but it made me feel proud that something that I liked and that I’d found first was something that you liked too.
I thought that when you moved away, I was going to be OK. I kept telling people that I was going to be really sad and that you are my best friend in all the world ever, but I thought it’d be like that thing where you think you’re going to cry at the end of a sad book, or a sad film, and then the moment comes and you miss it.
I’ve got Panda now. I thought he might smell like you, but he doesn’t although, to be fair, I can’t actually smell anything because I’ve got an attractive blocked nose. He’s not cuddly like you either.
The Military Wives has just come on. I don’t think you even liked it all that much. I don’t think you even ever nicked it from me, and you nicked most things which had been released in the last decade! It reminds me of you being in Year Thirteen though, and watching Gareth on the TV and it being the four of us. And the lyrics remind me of you.
I just wish you’d come home. I don’t want you to hate University at all. I want you to love it and be good at it and have lots of friends and look forward to going back after the holidays and put off coming home during termtime because you’re going out with the people in your flat. But I wish it was the beginning of Year 13 again and you were always at home when I came home and you had work to do and sometimes you were grumpy with me. I’d give anything to curl up in the armchair and know that you were there on the sofa because you kept squealing. I’d give anything for you to get really cross with me for staring in public.
It’s the Jubilee song now. Sing. I know it’s your very favourite ever. I can barely even listen to it because it reminds me so much of everything about you. Of how royalist you were and how completely unexpected it was. I’m repeating it for a third time now, as though it might summon you up, bring you home. I’m in bed now and it makes me cry so hard that I can’t sit still: it forces me into a curled up shape. I remember you telling me that there is no music which gets close to how much you love this song. I wish you’d come back and then we’d play it on repeat constantly for as long as you wanted. It reminds me of your A Levels and how hard you worked and how you made yourself ill because you wanted to do well so badly. I miss you.
Parade. We saw them at the Clothes Show. I don’t know whether you liked the song because you liked the song, or because it reminded you of the day, but it reminds me of your eighteenth birthday and of that day.
And Payphone. Maroon 5. It was probably the last song we listened to together before you went away. We were on the way back from Granny’s because we’d been on an adventure and we had the radio on. I didn’t know you loved it as much as you did. It reminds me of Jersey this year as well, and being together, just me and you, for a whole week. I miss it. I wish, wish, wish that I could turn back time and we could do the whole thing again. I wish we could do the whole summer again, to be fair. So badly that it hurts. It’s been amazing, this summer. Yeah, there have been bits that I regret, or that I’d rather not do again (and, of course – of course – I would never wish you ill) but it’s been one of the best that I can remember.
And now Happy Birthday. You silly girl! It was only last week. I felt as though I was losing you then, but at least I still had your physical presence to hold onto. I do miss cuddles. And your advice. And laughing with you. All of it, really. I’m so, so glad you’ve got Eva because I couldn’t bear to think of you being miserable. When you rang earlier and said you were going to sit on your bed and eat your salad, it almost broke my heart. I don’t want you to be by yourself, or being miserable. I want you to have a cake with me. I’d happily eat a million calories a day if you were here eating them with me. I’m sorry for that as well. So sorry. I really am.
But here we are. That’s it.
Lots of love,