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The message.

I owe you two things. The first being: my conviction. To not disappoint you a second time after telling you I would write you, here I am at 1:59am, dead tired, doing just that.

The second thing I owe you is honesty. [Almost] word for word, you said that one quality you like most about me is how honest and up front I am. I tell it as it is, no matter how much it sucks to hear.

I’m writing to you in a one way dialogue, as if I were telling you in person. If only I could tell you in person.

So here I am. Real, upfront, honest, and with conviction.

I wish you hadn’t gone back a second time.

When you first returned and told me of falling in love, I thought, “What a great story! It would be great to tell your kids one day.”

But that’s where the greatness ended and the solemnity began. You then told me that you were still in contact with him on a weekly, if not daily basis. That, against your prior decision of refusing a long distance relationship, you “wanted to keep things going because you wouldn’t have been pursuing a new relationship otherwise.”

And then you revealed one day that you two still existed. That you still considered him boo, and you his amor.

And then you revealed to me, months later, that you intended on going back. If not to see him, to at least see the city once more.

And you made it happen. You actually made it happen. You actually made it happen.

I wish you hadn’t gone back a second time.

You phrased it better than I could ever attempt to do so. You knew that, upon going back, leaving once more was a-coming. You knew that your stay there was, once again, temporary. You knew that it was a risk, a long-shot, and a crazy move. And then there you went. You actually went.

And then I started fearing. The way you spoke of him. The experiences you two had. The things you did for him. Due to my own selfishness as a friend, I feared seeing you come back so vulnerable, hurt, exposed, so lost. Like your brother, I fear those things out of someone I care so much about.

And then you came back. You finally came back.

As you know how I am with overthinking, I do so on an extremely conscious basis when interacting with you. I’m selective in my choice of words out of fear of triggering certain emotions in you. I’m selective in certain topics in that same context.

It’s already difficult for you to bring up certain topics with those closest with you. Yet I’ll echo the same words you’ve echoed to me. It will be hard to understand where you’re coming from. It will be hard being with you without being scared. Finding the right words and actions for you are near impossible, as it’s a personal battle you ultimately have to deal with.

So here I am. Here we are, best friends, sibling, parents and all, standing idly, feeling useless and fearful, awaiting the storm to pass. Here I am, having never been in your shoes, fallen in love, made an investment in one person to that extent. Clueless am I in that realm.

I could sit and talk to you and ramble about this. About that. About this. About that. And I will continue doing so. But the things I have been afraid to ask, and will be afraid so for a long time, would be…

“How are you?”

“Are you back?”

“What now?”

You’ll occasionally talk to me about what really matters to you. And I’ll listen. And I’ll give you my two cents, for whatever it’s worth. I’m here because you’re my best friend, because I want to be here for you.

But in the end, I wish you hadn’t gone back a second time.



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