Dear Matt,

I know you will likely never read this but, as I no longer have your address or phone number, this is my only outlet. I need to get this off my chest and I do hope that someday you will read it. I'm sorry, truly sorry, that we had to part. Whether you believe me or not, it was the hardest thing I've ever done and sometimes it still plagues me. I don't doubt that it was the right thing to do; I just wish I knew how you were (and if you are still alive).

I did love you. Not the way that you wanted me to, but in the only way that matters to me. I loved you as a friend. To have you as a boyfriend might have actually lowered your importance to me. I didn't understand this then. I wrote you a letter when you were in the ICU. Two actually. I wanted my mom to deliver it to you in case you woke up but I never did. After a while I felt that too many days had passed and that it would be better for both of us to just let it go. A clean break, I suppose.

When I got a new phone last summer, I didn't transfer your number. I thought it unnecessary and just too painful. I started to get these calls from an 817 number, always during my 11:30 class and never with a message. Because these phone call happen every few months, it is impossible for me to see if they come from the same number but I finally got to answer one last week--and the caller never responded. If it is you, I would have liked to speak with you, to know you're okay.

I don't regret meeting you again. You were a good friend to me and made that second stay at Millwood tolerable! I was still in recovery and I was afraid that I couldn't continue getting better if I was always worried about you. A part of it was manipulative as well, I'll admit. I knew that I was important to you and I hoped that, by carrying through with our boundary, I could help you. I had offered to help you through any crisis as long as you would reach out to me, and it still did nothing. That day I learned that I cared even more for your life than my own. I had to hope that my leaving would help you see that.

I'm happy now and (somewhat) sane. And I think of you every time I hear Blue October's "Picking up Pieces." A song I loved now gives me a knot in my stomach, and all I can think of is you. I hope that you are still out there and that you are happy. I want you to know that I don't hate you and I didn't hate you then either, just very sad. Please don't give up. And for God's sake, please don't die.

Your friend,
Ashley