There is an unsent letter to a significant person in my life sitting underneath my bed right now. I was going to send it to her after my sister called me to tell me that her boyfriend broke up with her. He was her first everything and they had a solid 4-year relationship. But the thing is, she’s a distant significant person in my life. She’s actually very mad at me at the moment because she feels as though I abandoned her as a friend. I know we can move past that if I just acknowledged she was right, but that doesn’t feel like the truth. Now we’re at a standstill, but she’s heartbroken. Where do you draw the line at watching people you love feel raw pain while choosing to abstain from supporting them? I had to write her a letter, I had to somehow reach out to her in a very low- risk way where she wouldn’t feel like she’d need to respond. So I did. I wrote her this super weird card saying that I kind of had to break the silence in our friendship to let her know that I was there for her, to console her for being broken-hearted. I thought it would make her really happy. Plus the card I made was so cute; it was cozy and sweet, like what our friendship was. With knots in my stomach, I dropped it in my mailbox at about 8 p.m. and was never going to look back. I sank back in my bed and let my thoughts out of their crates. They ran through all of my brain’s ridges and trenches to deliver a clear message: no. What a ridiculous thing I would be doing to send that letter: how much weirder it would make her feel and how much more I would complicate everything. I launched myself out from under a mountain of blankets and back on to my feet at 10 p.m., ran to my mailbox, and seized the letter, a simple piece of paper carrying more weight than I had realized . Now it’s under my bed and I can’t look at it. Across the room, my closet door creaks open. I guess the skeleton in there needs more room, he might be in there for a while.