I wore your massive hoodie today. I spent the whole day just wrapped in your grey jumper with the sleeves bunched at my wrists. I was surprised I still had it and almost forgot it was yours. Almost. But I still don’t want to give it back. I hope you don’t mind. It makes me smile with the memory of how you lent it to me. It was raining, I was wet and cold, and you made me take it. You used to do that a lot. Look after me, I mean.
Your cologne has long since disappeared and that’s okay (you used to go overboard with the spraying anyway). I didn’t love you that way- I don’t need that scent as a reminder to sustain me. You were my best friend and thinking about the state of our friendship used to bring me a wave of sadness. A deep, crushing regret, a tug at the heart. I missed you so much it hurt. I remember thinking that it was so difficult to describe it- that nothing was synonymous with the pain of missing you. Sounds melodramatic, seeing as I barely ever think about you now. We’ve grown up, you’ve changed, and I’ve accepted the distance between us. I was doing very well with not giving the past much acknowledgement up until I saw your hoodie hanging in my closet today.
I remember how I used to call you whenever I was bored or upset about anything. You’d listen, say funny things, tell me lame jokes, and call me ‘nub’ amongst other rude things. You always knew when I was about to cry and you’d panic and tell me not to, which would make me cry harder. But you were so sincere I could never be upset for long (when I was with you, at least). We’d be on the phone late at night rehashing details of our primary school lives and offering advice on each other’s crushes. You’d ask me to meet you and you’d always have a packet of 5 gum (passion fruit flavoured because it was my favourite) and a bottle of green tea waiting for me. When you found out about your grandmother I hugged you and bought you a mango smoothie and I wanted to cry as well. We walked a lot (which I loved) and I trusted in your so-called A* geography skills which you prided yourself on. We talked about parallel universes by the fish pond and you showed me how you viewed the world. We’d go to the park and I’d sit on the floor as you sat on the swings. I still remember how you got your bum stuck in a baby swing and how you carted me around Toys-R-Us, laughing as you drove me into the displays. We watched tonnes of movies and threw pop-corn at the audiences. You’d always offer to switch places with me if the guy in front of me had a big head that blocked the screen. I endured going to Japanese restaurants all the time and you constantly ridiculed my height. You always insisted on bringing me home before leaving yourself. We rarely ever fought and when we did, we’d joke about it immediately and say that it was impossible to stay mad at each other. You’d offer me your hands (which were always ridiculously warm) when I was cold and you always said I was a better friend to you than you were to me. But I was lucky to have someone like you in my life. I was fully myself around you- a guy, and I loved you wholly as a person. At one point, when we were by the harbour, you said “here’s the plan. When I’m 25 or 30 we’re going to visit each other. No matter where I am or what’s happening in my life, okay?” I said “okay” and we shook on it. I genuinely believed you’d stick around. But I don’t blame you. I understand. I just wish you knew how much you meant to me, though no post will be able to express how many memories I adore and how much I cherish the very fact that I ever knew you. You’re different now (aren’t we all?) but I’m still sorry we are the way we are. And I guess I’m sorry for keeping your hoodie. You never had a problem with my sentimentality so excuse me but I’m not quite ready to give it back.