a letter to a friend, concerning moments in time.

A letter:

Dear friend,
I looked up your profile today, at 1:30 in the morning. You know those things that you think about doing, and are so tempting, but avoid doing because the thought of it makes your stomach curl? Because you're afraid of what you'll find. I've toyed with the thought of looking at your profile at various points in this little happenstance, but have resisted. Not just because I was afraid of what I would find, but also because I didn't want to be one of those exes who spied on the people “who done me wrong.” I have more respect for myself, and for you, than that.

But I did it tonight. Why, you may ask. Well, I gauge how healed I am by how I feel about you, how I feel about you maybe being in another relationship, how I feel about maybe getting back in touch with you. I know myself well enough to know that with time, wounds heal and in some cases, I can be friends again. That was the “plan,” wasn't it? Break off communication for a few months and I'd contact you when I was ready. Yeah.

I had butterflies. Worse butterflies than that time I performed my first kata in front of the karate dojo filled with spectators. Worse than when I played my first open mic. Worse than when I got up the nerve to tell each person I cared about how I felt. Was I ready for this? I thought. But then something happened. I was writing a response letter to a friend of mine. You know, one of the ones I care about. I had told them how I felt, had read their well-articulated reply, processed it, and was in the midst of writing back when I realized I had to deal with the shit that went down with you.

The hardest things to do are the most worthwhile, and letting go is one of the hardest things of all in my opinion. But something about this year has been different. Let me clarify; something about post-you-and-me has been different. In all of that, leading up to this moment, my mind has suddenly settled.

Your profile is private. All I see is your picture. And yet that picture captures your essence, how I knew you, so perfectly. I wonder a little if anything has changed for you, because just judging from that one picture, it doesn't appear that much has. I will allow for the fact that I may be entirely wrong, and will not give into temptation to go on a “see how I've grown from this, but you haven't” rant.

Simply put, I don't know if I will want to contact you again. Not because I resent you still, or hate you, or wish things were different. I used to. Wish things were different, I mean. But I can say with total sincerity that I am so grateful to you. Not for loving me, though I am thankful for that, but for letting me go. It may have been one of the single greatest thing anyone has done for me. I always admired you for your kind heart and giving nature; I think you may have given more than you realize. Nice and kind stand at two ends with miles of difference between them, and this situation illustrates such a separation beautifully. How funny that one of the cruelest things one can do is also the kindest?

I recognize that I wield little to no control in the scheme of things. And it is a large comfort to think that whatever pain I go through, and whatever destruction I witness is massively dwarfed by the whole of the universes extending out and beyond from my tiny consciousness. We like to think of ourselves as the center of attention and the most important of all... but at times, it is such a lovely thing to be insignificant, if not simply for a moment. And to not have control... what a marvelous relief! I may do my part, but whatever happens will happen. You are a wonderful human being, and I wish you the best. Whatever happens will happen.

Time will compose a clearer poem of how my letting go will manifest. If I never speak to you again, or if we begin from fresh and raw foundations to attempt a new friendship; I know not yet.

I loved you, that I am certain. In some other reality, I am sure I continue to love you, and in others still, we may have never met. In spiraling down to this moment, I am immensely grateful that I have had the luck to live out this particular sequence of events.

Love,
a friend