For the man that you want to be, and the man that you almost are:
I remember.
The first thing about you that had caught my attention was your impeccable English. The first few mails exchanged between us were so formal, I felt as though we both would not be out of place in an early 19th century English countryside setting…for that was how it first all began.
I had sought for nothing more than simple friendship, and judging from your early words, I suspect you sought the same. It felt strange to be at complete ease with a complete stranger, and to connect through conversations without giving any thought or putting any effort in stringing words together. It came naturally, and I was glad to have met the acquaintance of yet another good heart, though it came about in the most unconventional way.
Months passed…
and now here we are,
still strangers,
but only in the physical sense.
As with everyone else, we all have our walls which we build around ourselves for that sense of security. The difference lies in who we allow to make a hole in that wall to take a look inside, and trust enough to know that they will patch up the hole they made once they leave so that you remain safe.
You are one of the fewest people I know who saw that wall, my wall, and one of the even fewer who was able to leave a dent. I assure you dearest friend, that many people have hammered and left nothing in this sturdy fortress of mine, and so what you have done is no mean feat. It is an effort of Herculean proportions.
Over time, you somehow mastered the art of reading my mind, of knowing by instinct that something is wrong, and I know this because when I’m at my lowest, you’re always there, if only in the emotional sense. What makes you different is that I never need to tell you so. It isn’t in my nature to call out for help, but you respond anyway.
When I feign happiness, when I feign a sense that everything around me is absolutely fine, you can tell that something isn’t right, with only my voice to drop you hints and give you clues. You just know, and sometimes that can get really annoying.
Then there are the little things, like how I can finish your sentences, and moments when I face difficulty in expressing what I need to get through, you can respond with an assuring ‘It’s ok, I know what you mean.’ The little things, like when you say Manchester United are the best football team, because you know how much I love the Reds. Although you have absolutely no interest in football, listening to me automatically switch to my debate mode amuses you somehow. I’d be halfway through my 5th point why LFC are better, and only then will I hear you laughing on the other line.
There are times when I wonder what you think of me truly, whether I was a mere replacement for something you once lost, which I wish you could have back, and again, you somehow knew that I needed to know. The call you gave me before you left for your hometown was enough to let me know where I stand in your eyes.
You have got to be the only person I know who has called me beautiful, although you have never seen me in person, and that means the world to me. The fact that you see who I’m made of instead of what I’m made of showed me that I’ll always be able to find kindred spirits in the most unlikely of people.
You taught me that falling in love was not necessarily something made of pure lies and deceit, and that its existence was as concrete as the things reality is made of. You’re the only optimist I know who believes it will actually happen to me one day, and you constantly hope Love comes my way. Although I shall always remain stubborn regarding matters of the heart, I’ll always appreciate your unwavering confidence in changing my cynical outlook.
The one single thing that I will always, always appreciate is your level of trust in me. I have never had that kind of willingness to share, to admit to, to reveal, to confess, and for you to do so with such honesty and sincerity shows me that I should someday open up to people the way you have with me. Perhaps I will be able to. Someday. I have already begun to with you.
There are far too many things to write for me to continue, but I want you to know how important you are to me, and that I won’t forget you as well.
Thank you for loving me the way I permit those I love, to love me back.
It’s no wonder why people around me think that there can’t be just mere friendship between us, that there must be something more than a platonic closeness for me to talk so affectionately of you.
But this is all there is to it. Friendship. Its significance lies in its depth, and this one runs deep.
You needn’t have told me what I didn’t need to know last night. What you have done for me outweighs what I may have done for you.
I haven’t been the friend I should have been these past few weeks. And for that, ’sorry’ will never be enough. The guilt will always be there.
All that I wish and pray for is your happiness.
All that I ask of you is that you laugh again.
Enough said here.
