Waiting In Our Treehouse

She’s been gone for almost 2 days now and I don’t know what to believe. It’s just all so unreal. Sometimes I find myself calling out her name, waiting for her to respond to me; but then I remember, she’s not here to answer me anymore.

I went back to our treehouse today. I wanted to remember and relive our moments here together. Her dad built the treehouse for us when we were six. We had been begging him that whole summer till he finally gave in. By the time he had finished, school had already started so instead of doing our homework like we were suppose to, we would go up to the treehouse and pretend we were pirates or superheros. Once, we even went around trying to rescue cats stuck in trees or running around the neighborhood trying to find people that were in “desperate” need of saving. We always had a good time when we were together. Maybe that’s why she was my best friend. I could always count on her to be there whenever I needed her. I began to go through all of our stuff when I ran across a letter. It was written in her handwritting. It was adressed to me.Why would she write me a letter? Would it answer all of the questions I forgot to ask? It was dated August 9, 2011, 2 days before she died. It said…

“I don’t know what to write. I’ve been staring at this blank page for hours trying to figure out how to put into words what I have to say. To be honest, it’s easier to say in my head than to write on paper. Im trying to find some inspiration to help get me started, but since that doesn’t seem to be getting me anywhere, I guess I’ll start here.

Remember last year, when you told me your biggest secret last year? How you would hold my hand when I got scared and told that it was okay? How you could tell me anything? Well just last year, on June 29, 2011, you shattered my world. We were up in the treehouse my dad built for us when we were six. Remember that? We hadn’t gone up in what seemed like ages. Our old superhero capes were torn and our toy pirate swords were falling apart. I remember how we used to have so much fun together up in that very treehouse. Our imaginations were “Out of this Universe” my dad would say. He was right you know, we were pretty crazy. It’s funny to think how we became best friends in kindergarden when you stole my cookie and I tackled you, telling you to give it back. Ms. Banter put us in time out for like 20 minutes and made us “Talk it Out”. We bonded over complaining about how stupid she was. It was January 27, 2001- the day we became best friends and December 13, 2007 when I first realized I was in love with you. It took me 7 years to realize it, but somehow I feel like I’ve always known. Well, remember in June when I mentioned my heart shattering? It was because you told me you were in love with someone, someone who wasen’t me. I cried myself to sleep that night. I stayed up all night trying to understand what it was she gave you that I couldn’t, what it was about her that made you want her and not me. After you asked her out, you stopped wanting to be around me. Instead of our Friday night movie marathons, you were taking her out to catch the latest Nicholas Sparks movie. I didn’t get why though, you hated Nicholas Sparks; said he was too “sappy” and “girly”, yet now your blowing me off to take her to see one? Sometimes, I just couldn’t help but wonder, did you forget about me or was she just so much more important that it would be worth throwing away our 11 years of friendship? I always hoped that you haden’t forgotten about me, that you still remembered i existed. The distance between us was killing me inside, espescially because we were just that close. I hope that you know, that even though you’re with her, even though we don’t talk like we used to, I’ll still be here, waiting in our treehouse, when you finally realize that it was me all along.”

Well here I was now, but I was too late because she was gone. If only I knew that she was in love with me. If only I hadn’t been so blind. It would have made all the difference in the world because secretly, I loved her too. I just never let myself believe that a girl that was as amazing and beautiful as her would ever be in love with a guy like me. I should’ve taken the shot to tell her. But I didn’t. I sat there, crying to myself. As I sat there alone, a wind bruished through the window of the treehouse. I must have been going insane because I could swear I heard a faint voice calling my name, telling me it was okay; to not be afriad. When the wind died down, I sat there smiling to myself because I knew that just because I couldn’t see her face anymore, doesn’t mean that she wasn’t still here.