My Danish friend

You said I'd soon forget you. And then you said that you hope our friendship lasts a lifetime.

Looks like you were wrong with the first and chose to be wrong with the second of these. See, it's been five and a half years, and here I am, up at 4:35 am, writing these words, and still a part of me hopes that one day you'll read them and get in touch with me again. My dark Plutonian friend, I've changed so much in these years, and I imagine so have you. Maybe it is only a fantasy I have, of what it would be like to hear from you, write to you again. Maybe it was all a fantasy. Only I still have those e-mails. And they still make me feel the way they did then.

I wonder what you'd do if you were to read this. Would you recognise me? Perhaps you would, after all you know me by the same name I use here. I've never mentioned yours here, though I've mentioned you time and time again.

Maybe it really is better this way. Even if my fantasy of you has roots in reality - maybe it's the sunlight that I need to focus on right now, rather than the darkness of the wastelands of loneliness. Autumn will come soon enough. For now, at least, I have summer. I wonder, do you have summers, too? You, who you are for me a symbol of the darkness that need not be feared.