Ridiculous. I've tried to write to you probably 30 times since you moved away. I have unfinished letters, words stuck in my head, of a million different ways to say the same thing.

In April I wrote a letter to you in my head on the car ride home from the mountains. Then I went home and typed it up; deleted it, then pulled it out of the 'recycle bin' on my desktop.

Now it's January, the only thing I ever sent was an 'I Miss You' card with a dog on it that looked incredibly sad and I have no recollection of what I wrote on the inside. I was probably still in high school.

Your birthday, 2010, I mentioned not having your newest address, just in case I wanted to send something, and I got the usual 'it's all good' response, and still, I haven't sent you a thing.

I think there's fear of what will happen when my pen hits paper, my fingers hit keyboard, and I think of the million ways I could say what I've wanted to since you moved away.

There's the "I miss you and...." the "I wish we saw each other more often," the "Sorry I missed you last time you visited..." and the 999,997 other ways I can say what I just did. But I couldn't then, and I'm afraid to now.