A letter that I hope he’ll never read but somehow reaches him

I love someone, at least I think… I feel comfortable around them and I’m allowed to show them my flaws: my laziness, pessimism, cynicism, judgement. My excessive idealism that keeps me going but also holds me back. He lets me make mistakes and forgives my clumsiness. He tells me it’s okay whenever I start blaming myself. He almost immediately notices whenever I’m feeling low, and always pays attention to the small remarks I make. With him I feel safe, seen, respected, and the gentleness that seeps through his indifferent exterior catches me off guard every time.

“Good morning” “How are you” “Are you okay” “Goodnight”. He might not genuinely mean it every time he says these things, but he says them nonetheless. Perhaps it’s the illusion of being cared for that I’ve fallen in love with. I’ve grown accustomed, I’ve been spoiled, I’ve taken him for granted. These small gestures that have become my every day and every night. Our circumstances brought us together, and the companionship we share turned out to be something I had always longed for.

I thought the universe gave me signs. I thought your existence was a gift of luck and happiness, shooting stars and dolphins. But maybe the universe just is, and meanings are just coincidences. We simply existed in the same time and place and became means to each other’s ends. I can feel these finite moments coming to an end, like the shooting star’s dance and dolphin’s greeting that left no trace. Like trains that brush against each other and gradually drift apart, like a summer’s breeze that teases and caresses then leaves you hanging. What’s left is the feeling of intimacy and comfort that was once felt: a past lover in a stranger’s body.

You make me happier than I otherwise would be. Your sarcastic, quirky humour surprises me and lifts me up when I need it most. Your scepticism draws out the ugliness and emptiness in me that I’ve been suppressing and refusing to accept. You don’t see the real me as a selfish, immature and whiny brat, rather you tell me I need to accept my flaws and let loose. To be less perfect and more human. You acknowledge my strengths without placing me on a pedestal, you stay by my side even though you’re not at all impressed by the caring and energetic facade I bullshit people with. The harder I try to be more likeable, the less responsive you are. But when I’m being my most authentic self, and when the parts I hate most slip through every time I’m frustrated and tired, you respond with genuine appreciation and the funniest giggle. I feel so afraid and confused every time it happens, because I never know what is it I’ve done that deserves your casual warmth and acceptance.

I don’t know what it is that I’ve been clinging onto. Probably an ideal that I’ve created to run away from my problems. An outlet to pour my bottled up emotions into. But the truth is that we don’t see things the same way, and our circumstances can never be. Underneath all the indifference and free-spiritedness you show to the world is longing for companionship and stability, which I have no right to give. You want comfort and space, I want passion and intimacy. You’re never satisfied with what you have and are always looking for better, I’m still patiently waiting for the one to arrive. Perhaps it’s your lack of emotional availability that initially drew me in, that made me think that I could at least stay with you for a while before we go off to achieve different things. But when you told me that you’ve found the one, that you feel comfortable around her, that you miss her, that you love her, that was when everything fell apart. I drank and cried. You asked. I couldn’t tell. What’s the point in sharing my vulnerability when we have no obligation to each other? I know you hate unnecessary emotional baggage and irrational behaviour.

You make me feel so alone yet so loved. “Love you too”, “you’re amazing”, “You give me life”, “you keep me sane”. Comments which I don’t know are genuine or alcohol’s side effects, but left a mark on me nonetheless. From now on I can only love you in different ways, and it’s sad that we’ve both lost something precious that we had. Someone to love and someone who loves. But I wish the best for both of us and I know that we’ll always be there for each other, to cheer each other on.