Alongside the release of our latest poetry print edition, Nostalgia, we wanted to release some of our archived, longer pieces exploring the theme. Firstly, TWSS’ Saskia Kirkegaard explores the nostalgia of old friendships, and sends an open letter to the friends she’s loved, and lost, before.

This piece is from our archives and was written over a year ago, with some of the situations in it having now changed.

Snapchat memories are the worst feature of the whole app, right? Every morning I open snapchat to check whether anyone has texted me, reply to them, get distracted by that little red dot at the bottom of the camera screen, click on it, see videos of myself with people I used to think would be bridesmaids at my wedding, whom I haven’t spoken to in years, and feel like shit. Thanks snapchat! 

We talk a lot about romantic breakups. The heartbreak, the three day grieving period, the series of funny dating anecdotes as someone tries to “get back out there”. What we don’t talk about enough, in my personal opinion, is the end of close female friendships. The emotional outcomes of the friendship breakups/ drifts I’ve had with people I loved most in the world is way worse than any girl breaking my heart romantically. Some of these breakups have been because of massive fights and hateful comments, but most have been due to the drifting of time and space, and these hurt the most for me. 

As I clicked through my snapchat memories this morning, hating myself for never saying proper goodbyes to the people I’ve drifted with, I had an idea. What if I wrote an article for TWSS in the form of 3 short letters to all the friends I’ve loved before? That way I could finally get out all of the emotions I’m still feeling long after the last time I spoke to them, but in a safe, anonymous way that hurts nobody (all the while contributing to Nostalgia, which helps everyone…) Here are all the friends I’ve loved before (well, 3 of them). The names in these letters are not their real ones, they are in fact the names of 3 sisters in Little Women (I am clearly an Amy so that name is not included). 

Dear Beth,

I still don’t really know what happened with us. In the beginning of year 7 it was so easy to see you all the time, as we live so close to each other, and we would go on long dog walks, listing all the people in our new secondary schools. You went to the local state school and I won a bursary to a private school, which was a 40 minute bus ride away, meaning when I wasn’t at school I was travelling home or doing homework, and we saw much less of each other. I could feel us drifting even then. You were always quiet until spoken to, and then you came alive. Along with our other best friend (F) we invented a new game every lunch time, created a band which performed at our primary school talent show, and whispered about boys at sleepovers (way before F and I knew we were gay). You have one of the best laughs I’ve ever heard, and you’ve cried on my shoulder more times than anyone I’ve ever met since. I sat with you and your family on the first anniversary of your mum’s death, and gave you a tiny distraction at her funeral. You always made me feel comfortable in group settings by talking to me when no one else would. I always felt so safe with you. One year I texted asking to hang out and you never replied. I’ve heard since that you weren’t well, but at the time it felt like you no longer wanted to see me, and we weren’t close enough for me to ask what was wrong anyway. The last time I saw you was about a year ago – F and I bumped into you and your dad on a dog walk. We made small talk and said we should “definitely hang out soon!”, and walked on. It made me miss you, because you haven’t changed at all. 

Lots of love,

Sassy xxx

Dear Meg,

Gosh, it’s hard without you still. I very often see things that I know you’d love, or remind me of your energy, and it makes me so sad to think about you. There was no reason for us to drift so quickly after you left our school for sixth form. I stayed friends with other people who left. It was more that our whole friendship group kind of fell apart in year 10 – but even then, we stayed the closest out of everyone for 2 more years. You made new friends at sixth form, our timetables stopped matching up, you started smoking (very out of character for you). All these factors led to a bit of a breach. I missed the days of our art gcse class, when we giggled over nothing for hours. You have amazing music taste, so a part of you definitely lives on in me – I think of you every time I hear Sea of Love by Cat Power, In the Air Tonight by Phil Collins, and losing my religion by R.E.M. Your energy was always electric, you always had something funny or clever or interesting to say, and I loved listening. You were always so harsh about yourself, so mean, and I just thought you were utterly beautiful and amazing, and couldn’t bear it. This is one of those friendship drifts where my mum still thinks we’re close, so mentions you pretty regularly, which is really tough. I miss you a lot, and I wish I knew how you’re doing at uni beyond the occasional instagram story. I wonder if you think that about me?

Lots of love,

Sass 💗

Dear Jo,

Okay, here’s where it gets kind of complicated. This friendship was TOXIC. So toxic. Notoriously so. I was fully in love with you for about 3 years. You were my first kiss. We knew each other inside out and back to front. I loved everything you loved. I still regularly rock climb because you did it. Everytime I like a girl I think of you. But we were awful to each other. We would argue constantly – almost every night at one point. I was always worried that you weren’t eating enough, sleeping enough, happy enough. You hated this. Fiercely independent, you didn’t need any help. You said terrible things to me that have rocked my entire view of myself, things that haunt me even now. But I was obsessed with you. We would make up so quickly from one argument that it felt like you didn’t mean any of those things. You would weep into my shoulder until my school jumper was wet, and I felt helpless. You’ve apologised for your words and actions multiple times since we finally put an end to the friendship. I even saw you this summer! We went clubbing! It was a very strange experience that ended with me throwing up on the streets of Soho because I’d drunk too much (because you were there and I was nervous). You looked at me a lot that night. You told me about your diagnosis of BPD. I felt a little bit like something had been put right with us. But I’m sending you this letter anyway, as a final goodbye to us. So I don’t have to read through the photo album you made me for my birthday, or drink from the mug you got me for Christmas, without tearing up a bit. I hope you don’t still think of me as who I was then. 

Lots of love,

Saskia x