A Short Letter to an Old Friend

Hello, Old Friend.

I think it best to reply by baring myself,  like I promised I would many months ago. I got a job, met two girls and promptly broke their hearts (it was nastiness all around), finished school and gave the graduation ceremony the finger (my HR asked me to go get my papers, which I should do before the year ends), then met another girl.

She is a keeper. She was there through the muck. She stuck around. I joke she loves me enough for both of us. The undercurrent of this is at the time she seemed to have loved me especially when I did not love myself.

I still write. I hope it is no longer the flesh fest it used to be. I have been consciously working to share more and deeply and make my words meaningful. I share my work although not as intensely and as often, and also somewhat cautiously. It seems paradoxical: sharing more of myself and coming out of my shell, while also being more careful. When you have a moment, let me know what you think.

I have gained some weight. I can feel it in the tightness around pants I used to need a belt to wear. I have been told it looks good on me. I no longer seem underfed and skeletal. There were reasons I was thin, ones I will get into another time, ones that I’m sure you can relate to. Underneath the cushiness I hope I remain the person you became friends with.

My silence had nothing to do with you or anyone else. It is presumptuous to think so of yourself. People, I being one, are weird. The going quiet was part of my weirdness. I am sorry for not being a better friend. You have no idea how much your reaching out means to me.

I am slowly making peace with myself. I do not have to be anything: understood, adored or even forgiven. Some things are beyond me, some things are not up to me but I can still be grateful for the choices of other people. People like you, idiots, some would say, who keep loving even when they have been pushed away, even when there is nothing left to love. Especially when there is nothing left to love.

Silence is alienating and in silence we become alien, even to ourselves. When you build walls you also have to climb over them. Thank you for knocking a hole through mine and giving me a foothold to at least come up and over to where you are.


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