Can't believe it's been more than six months already. I had to google my own post, heh. But I still feel like I should write a follow up? It's a bit cathartic, I guess.
Yesterday I found out on a weekly publication that my highschool buddy's dad died. He was murdered. He was a bit of a local emninensce where I live, with a suprisingly colorful past, so I'm not surprised I heard about it on the news.
This time I had to bear all my anxiety and actually write to him. I could only muster a few sentences, I'm not really good at writing about death. In hindsight though, my fear of rejection was really silly. It's like reality suddenly arrives like a wrecking ball and smashes the menial and insignificant. Or maybe my anxiety was just a justification for my indolence and indifference. Who knows, maybe I'm just a coward.
He finally answered my email a couple of hours ago. He told me he'd always be my friend, which gave me a knot in the pit of my stomach.
He confessed that he had a bit of trouble getting into the college he wanted to. I admire him for not giving up on his dream though. He also mentioned that I'm probably working already and that I might even have a family. I guess I should tell him that I'm definitely more timid than that.
I feel bad that the only way I could manage to get in touch with him was after such a horrible thing happened. I could've written an email so long ago.
But I also wanted him to know that he was still in my mind after all these years, especially when he's at his bleakest.
I truly wish him the best.
Thanks for reading this shit, whoever you are.