The letter to my first true friend

Dear [Muhammad Atif],

I don’t know if this letter will ever reach you, or if time has quietly buried our memories in separate corners of the world. But I need to say this, even if only to the echo of who we used to be.

You were my first true friend.

Not the kind who just shares lunch or plays tag at recess, but the kind who sees you—even when you haven’t yet learned how to see yourself. I was awkward, unsure, a little too quiet and a little too loud in all the wrong places. And then there was you—light, laughter, a calm in the chaos.

I remember the exact moment you became “home.” It wasn’t grand. It never is, with real things. We were sitting under that crooked tree behind the school, eating cookies you’d snuck from your lunchbox. I’d dropped mine, and you just split yours in half and handed it over like it was no big deal. But to me, it was everything.

Because no one had done that before. No one had seen me stumble and simply reached out, instead of walking away or watching silently.

From that moment on, you were there. In every corner of my messy childhood. You knew when I was pretending to be okay, and you never asked me to explain the cracks. You filled the silence with understanding, not questions. You showed up when no one else did—not because you had to, but because you wanted to.

We built a world together—made of secret codes, imaginary places, and late-night phone calls that stretched into sleepy laughter. You were the first person who knew the real version of me—the one I hid from everyone else. And not only did you stay… you celebrated her.

You never made me feel like I was too much. Or not enough. You were the balance I didn’t know I needed.

And then, life happened.

We grew up. We moved. We made other friends. The late-night talks turned into once-a-year texts, then into memories I scroll past in old photo albums. But even when our lives drifted apart, a part of me always carried you with me.

You were the blueprint—the quiet voice that whispered, “This is what it feels like to be loved without condition.”

I wish I had told you more back then. How your kindness saved me in ways you never saw. How your laughter pulled me back from dark places I didn’t even know how to name. How you made it okay to dream a little louder and stand a little taller.

Sometimes I wonder if you knew. If you could see how much you mattered to me. Or if I ever made you feel even half as seen as you made me feel.

There are people I’ve met since—some I’ve loved deeply, some who’ve changed me in ways that hurt and healed. But there’s something sacred about the first. The first friend who showed up, not because of what you had to offer, but because of who you simply were.

You were that for me.

And even now, when the world feels too sharp, I think of you. I think of us. Of muddy sneakers, whispered secrets, and shared silence under open skies. I think of your hand reaching out to mine—not to pull me somewhere, but just to say, “I’m here.”

I don’t need anything from you now. Not a response. Not even a memory returned. I just needed to tell you thank you. For being my safe place when the world felt too big. For loving me when I didn’t know how to love myself. For being the first person who made me feel like I belonged.

I hope life has been kind to you. I hope you’ve found people who see you the way you once saw me. And I hope—more than anything—you know how deeply you were loved.

You were my first true friend.

And that kind of friendship never really ends.

Wherever you are, know that a piece of you still lives in the softest parts of who I’ve become.

Always,

[Abdul Rauf]