Love Letters to a Friend: Part 2
an unfinished series of letters to my former favorite person
Read the first letter and explanation of this short series here.
Prologue
This is the last of my writings I would share with him for a very long time. But he loved this one. He listened to the recording of it repeatedly. I would, for the coming months, send him snippets of it, of reminders that my feelings wouldn’t change. He sent me this beautiful voice note about it and his feelings for me, saying that my words soothed him. Big declarations. I would listen to it when things were bad, a reminder of why I was staying. Funny to think now that I can’t remember the sound of his voice. The intimacy of becoming a stranger to someone, who in that very voice note said I understood him better than he understood himself. I had promised to hold on through his worst because better was coming. I see now that unconditional love is not something we can give anyone other than our own children. Love should absolutely come with conditions. Promising to love someone unconditionally means that no matter how toxic the connection has become that you will continue to accept it. There are 2 more letters in this series after this, this is the last one where I am declaring my love.
9/4/24 - The Second Love Letter
We had a minor thing last night. You joked about a sore spot. And then I didn’t love your initial response to me saying, “Please don’t.” But I explained, and you heard. But there was a little tension. No “good nights” or “I love yous.”
I woke up this morning. No good mornings or IG reels, or memes shared. Unusual. I thought of making you come to me, because I was the one who was triggered. But through our connection, I’m learning what love means. I’m learning what you need. I’m learning that when I assert my boundaries or say you’ve hurt me, that for you, it’s also triggering. But not for the reasons it would seem. Like me, you're used to people doing this to belittle you, or to say that they are done with you, or to tell you to feel shame. I know that as we heal, we will learn that this is never the intention of either of us.
I knew you were working early (we both hate early mornings). Usually, you text me first thing. I texted you instead. I wished you a good day and told you I love you. Text sent at 08:48. Reply 08:48. A picture of you. Then a rant about your day. You are so incredibly strong. So fucking tremendous in height, personality and wit. You can withstand my absolute worst. You’ve overcome obstacle after obstacle. Your stubbornness keeping you alive. I’m learning not to forget that you’ve granted me access to your softest parts. That you need reassurance and grand gestures, too. We mirror each other in so many ways. We are so connected. You are so fiercely protective of me. You are so deliberate and intentional with your love and care. I think part of me wants to hold mine back. Part of me senses your maleness, and it makes me want to withhold my affection. Part of me is scared the full immensity of my affection would be too much, even for you.
But in moments in our busy day, we discussed our upcoming matching tatts, and shared the mundanities of our lives as always. And the cherry on top, after working all day, you had 30 minutes before your evening job started. You called and talked with me until the last minute. I accompanied you to and on the MRT, to get your dinner (a tuna triangle), up your five flights of stairs, washing your face. Our connection as natural as breathing. Neither of us slept well last night. I know it’s because we felt a tension, but each day our push and pull softens, each day our connection gets more secure.
I write and wax poetic about my feelings for you in these letters. You infuse your time with your feelings for me. After an exhausting day, in oppressive heat and after I got annoyed yesterday you still wanted to use your 30 mins of free time to talk to me. As you’ve said, you show your love in deeds. And as I’ve said I show mine in words.