You're back. I thought I'd never talk to you again, not after all this time.

I don't even know what words to produce, even though I feel there's so much I'd want to say. It feels like it's been simultaneously almost two decades and barely a day since we last talked. I mean really talked, about anything and everything. I'm vibrating with excitement at the thought that I have your perspective, your thoughts in my life again.

I'm still ashamed of how I presented myself that one time we met up. I spilled a lot of my instability on you and you deserved better from someone who considered you their best friend. I think it'll take a while longer before I'll get over it, especially considering you're still you after all this time. But it's all falling into place like nothing's changed. I feel intimidated by your vastity of knowledge and complexity of thought, motivated, even slightly embarrassed thinking that maybe I'll say something dumb, or too simple, or... I don't know... And then we talk. And every ancillary thought dissolves, leaving nothing but the here and now, with you. You make me feel ageless, boundless.

At this point, my trajectory is clear, whether or not I like it. Think this wasn't even a question of if, but when it'd happen. It doesn't feel new, it's just what was always there being let out in the open. Yet it brings with itself the same weightlessness I felt when I first saw you, when I got to know you, when you let me close to you. And is it vigorous! It's honestly taking me by surprise, never could I have expected to still love someone so decisively after such a long time apart.

I'd be lying if I said this whole thing didn't terrify me, though. It's almost too much. Too soon. It reminds me of the times when my codependency drove me, of how I clung to the faintest shred of affection as though my life depended on it. It reminds me of the pits of limerence in which I fell several times over the years, it reminds me of everything I've worked so hard to overcome, to balance out, to keep in check.

But there's nothing there, as hard as I look. It's not limerence, it's rememberance, it's being flooded with the moments we shared together in our youth, it's the discoveries we made, it's the songs we shared, the coffees we spilt, the long afternoons in your kitchen. It's you, strewn over me on your couch as I was stroking your hair. It's me, holding your hand and giving you the most timid kiss on the cheek in my life. And I'm not clinging to you. I want you in my life, yes, voraciously so! But I can't cling to you, I couldn't even conceive of restricting you in any way. I wouldn't want you in any other way than you would want yourself.

And it makes it even worse. Because this may be the real deal on my end, and that scares me beyond belief. Add to that the fact that you're dealing with something complicated on your end, and I'm horrified. I genuinely don't know if I can carry this one alone. And I can't allow myself to hope that you'll ever feel the same, because I have to prepare myself for the worst. I don't even have a choice, really. If I still feel this way about you after all of these years apart, that means it's highly unlikely to go away any time soon. As I said, my trajectory is clear with or without my liking it.

I wish I could say all of this to you, because hiding it makes me feel dishonest. But it's still too soon, and it's too much, I fear. And I just don't want to hurt you in any way, even if it's just by further complicating things which are already difficult enough for you.

I'm truly sorry for... everything, I don't even know. I just know that I feel ashamed of... this, of myself.