dear best friend,
hey. I know we just talked about this, but I’m so sorry it’s been so long. the first week or so was just being busy, but then…escalation of commitment in action, I guess. I’m really sorry. I know you’re going to say I don’t need to be, but I am. I said I was going to write every day, and I really wanted to, and now it’s all kind of going down the drain. I’m seriously going to try to get back to it.
so I have a confession to make. well, maybe not a confession, exactly, but something I want to tell you that I haven’t told anyone else and I don’t think I’m going to because I hate myself for it. the concert last night…well, it was really good, like I said, but…I left it early. it just became too much. so many people and so close and I didn’t expect it and everyone was dancing and I felt so self-conscious dancing but also not dancing and I didn’t know what to do and it felt like everything was closing in and everyone was so close and it was so loud and so bright and I couldn’t breathe and I literally thought I was going to throw up (and I don’t throw up ever). and finally I asked my dad if we could leave because “my stomach hurt” and it was a little better when we got out of the room and by the time we got back to the hotel room I could breathe. and I just wanted to curl up and go to sleep but as soon as I tried, my brain started reshaping all my memories and feelings and making it seem like it hadn’t been bad at all and I’m just stupid and overdramatic and broken. there it is — I feel so broken. I hate myself literally so much. I’m just so sick of being like this.
anyway…I don’t want that to be the only thing I write about, because I always do that, go on about things like that, and it completely defeats the purpose of what this blog was supposed to be. so consider that a minor confession, but not the main point of this post.
the main part of this is…well, I don’t really know, honestly. but I want it to be about you. so I’m just going to think about you and try not to think about anything else, and then write and see what comes out.
I miss you. probably more than I should, honestly. you being here over the weekend was literally so amazing and I loved it so much, and once you leave it feels like there’s an empty space where you were, like I’m more alone than I was before you were here. I know that doesn’t logically make sense, but then again, how I feel rarely does. and I know I’m never really alone, you’re always there and all of that, and that obviously means a lot, but I wish you were physically here. it’s pointless, I guess, because you’re obviously not. but that’s the first thing I thought of.
another thing. I’ve been thinking about our “psychoanalysis” a lot. that was…well, yours was much better than mine, first of all. and it’s just…it literally meant more to me than you can possibly imagine. as for mine, I guess what I wanted to say is, there are a million other things I want to add to it. but the main thing, which is what my over-emotional and tearful self was trying to get at, is that there is just so much to you. you truly seem like just…more than anyone else. and I’ve tried to write about you more times than you can possibly imagine but I can never describe you well enough, I can never capture anywhere near all of you. you’re everything to me but honestly a lot of the time it feels like you’re just everything.
I don’t know if any of that makes sense, and you probably won’t agree. but I can see literally everything in you. and I wish I could describe it but I can never find the right words for you. I don’t even know if they exist. you are not like anyone else I’ve ever met and I love you so much more for that. I wish you could see even a tiny piece of how incredibly exceptional you are.
I love you so, so much.