You think about them sometimes. An old friend, a college roommate, someone who mattered once. You wonder what they're doing, if they ever think about you too, if they'd even remember that inside joke you used to share.
You've thought about reaching out. But it's been so long. What would you even say? "Hey, sorry I disappeared for five years, how's life?" It feels awkward. Inadequate. Easier to just keep scrolling.
But here's the thing: they're probably thinking the same thing.
Why We Don't Reach Out
According to research published in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, we consistently underestimate how much people appreciate being reached out to. We assume our message will be unwelcome or awkward, when in reality, people are almost always glad to hear from old friends.
The silence grows not because anyone wanted it, but because both people are waiting for the other to make the first move. Both assuming they've been forgotten. Both worried about being a burden.
The irony is that the discomfort you feel about reaching out is probably the exact same discomfort stopping them from reaching out to you.
What Not to Do
Don't overthink it. Don't wait for the perfect moment. Don't try to catch them up on everything that's happened since you last spoke. Don't apologize excessively for the time that's passed.
The gap doesn't need to be explained or justified. Life happened. That's enough.
What to Do Instead
Start simple. Start honest. Start with why you're reaching out right now, in this moment.
"I was thinking about that summer we spent working at the bookstore, and I realized I never told you how much those late-night conversations meant to me."
"I saw something today that reminded me of you, and I missed you. So I'm writing."
"I've been terrible at keeping in touch. I'm trying to be less terrible. How are you?"
Why Letters Work Better Than Texts
A text feels casual, almost disposable. It's easy to fire off and just as easy to ignore. There's no weight to it.
A letter is different. It requires effort. Time. Thought. When someone receives a handwritten letter after years of silence, they know you meant it. You didn't just type out a quick "hey, thinking of you" between meetings. You sat down, found paper, found a pen, and took the time to say something real.
That effort bridges the gap in a way a text message never could. It says: Despite the years, despite the silence, you still matter to me.
What to Actually Write
You don't need to be profound. You don't need to have a reason. You just need to be honest.
Talk about a memory you share. Mention something specific—a joke, a moment, something they said once that stuck with you. Ask how they're doing. Tell them something about your life now. Acknowledge the time, but don't dwell on it.
Most importantly: tell them why they mattered. Tell them what you valued about your friendship. Tell them you'd like to stay in touch, if they're open to it.
The specific words matter less than the act of reaching out. The willingness to be vulnerable. The courage to say "I miss you" without knowing if they'll say it back.
They Might Not Write Back
And that's okay. Sometimes people have moved on. Sometimes life circumstances make staying connected difficult. Sometimes the timing just isn't right.
But often—more often than you'd think—they do write back. And what you get is better than a reconnection. You get a reminder that some friendships don't expire. They just pause. Waiting for someone to press play again.
The friendships worth having are worth the discomfort of reconnecting. And the only way to find out which friendships those are is to reach out.
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