People

What a friend you turned out to be, one I never quite imagined at all.

It is the thought of you that keeps me from my craft, impressing a desire to write of our friendship. Admittedly, it is not only today you occupy, but the various yesterdays.

Friend of a friend, connection loosely strung over the social network. Converse we do, and we find ourselves in an interesting situation — while mostly strangers, we are much alike.

Gradual texts of a growing length, subjects aplenty. Music, books, and even the question of life itself. Who would guess that these two reticent humans would find each other?

In real life we hardly meet, constant lurkers of the online space. Yet I forget not the day you came for a significant event when another thirty would not. Despite the traffic and the pouring rain, your arrival meant a great deal to me. The only one of them all.

You asked then confused at the scene, why did you invite me here?

I replied poorly in my concealed gratitude, why not?

Why not, truly.

Distance increased over the years, and while our speakings dipped with the trough and peaks of life’s tidal wave, what wonders a simple message would do. A reconnect, tardy as some may be.

It is possible that I may never be coherent enough to express your importance in my life, especially when we are not close in relations in the end. But bless you I do, in these secret writings and feelings.

Un du evari’nya ono varda.

May the stars watch over you.

Years pass, and we grow up in ways unexpected.

Even so, by the way the warm sunlight bounces off your face and the crinkle of your inquisitive eyes, I know that I’ve held a love special for you.

I don’t know why I write of these things now, yet maybe I do. There’s been a gap in time, where we’ve spent our lives apart. While we’ve not faded from each other’s thoughts, change has taken one another for a ride.

We’re close, able to speak of many things despite differences. I remember supporting you in the hardest of times, to perceive your strengths when you no longer did, and you’ve had a way of making me try more, to do more. Never did you break me with your involuntary angry speakings, hurt as I may have been.

So have I, for I remain humanly faulty. In ways unintended, I’ve injured you, like the time I accidentally kicked sand into your face when all I wanted was to play. All I’ve ever desired is for you to grow well, and to stay honest, no matter how difficult the journey would become.

Held my weak hand with strong ones you did, through my terrible episodes when the nights seemed forever long. I recall those dark eyes watching me with such caring, a sight I could hardly believe lest I misunderstood. To trust in the tender attention of another is an experience incredible. Sing me to sleep and stories told, simply to battle the rage of my restless heart. Wordless conversations across the room, a little ruffle on the head.

While outsiders prodded at our relations, we remained steady. What more could I ask for?

I’m coming home, and I wonder deeply as to who I will be meeting.

Will it be, that your hair has grown in a new style, or that you’ve gotten new shoes I’ve never known of before? Are there unfamiliar hobbies picked up, or forgiveness to be extended? What have you done in my absence? Will I find in myself still a heart to embrace you?

I remain shy and impossible with fierce expression, yet may it be that in my soul there’s a bravery mustered to know you all over again, if there’s a need to do so. I don’t intend to be like a passenger facing backwards on a train, endlessly pining for what’s already gone.

I promise this in the quiet, where in a world permeated with outrageous displays of affection of loose kisses and meaningless tangled bodies, my pinky finger loops yours.

This one, this I write for the one who’ll never find this.

This one, it’s for you, for the senior who held the door wide open and smiled for me.

Almost three years ago, around this time, you expressed the said deed. I’m not sure why, but I think of you as of late. What makes it remarkable is the fact that I no longer remember anything of your physical self.

It must be, that your smile made me feel warm in my heart, touched at the genuine kindness of a stranger. Even as I slipped past the glass doors, a part of me had been left behind. I wondered what you were doing back then, to linger close when you had no business to attend in the same area. Were you waiting for someone? Perhaps.

And all I know is this: that I said only a pity exchange of thanks. How would I have known that months down the road, I would have yearned to say more? What words should I have offered?

I see you, two or three more times. Close enough to hear your laugh, a melody that transforms the air, carefree and explicit, according to that of my ghostly memory. A ghost that is deader than memory, silly as it is. Yet I never catch your name. Timid child that I am, I have not the ability to gravitate into your sphere of influence.

The last time, surely, is that by the examination hall. While we differed in our education level, the hall was sufficiently spacious to occupy differing papers. You walked in, jacket dark and shoes white, or so I’ve chosen to believe. My memory, it has waned and I’m forced to make up something to hold on to.

While you eventually turned out to be someone I didn’t expect you to be, in the midst of my ambivalence I knew that you were always someone I searched for in the bustling crowd.

Where are you now?

It’s an incredible shame, that you could walk into my life by chance one day and I would not recognise who you are. I will hold on to the you I knew, of whom I’ve spun a story more than one in my attempt to wrap loose ends.

(In this timeline of bytes and hex codes, I have made you immortal.)

I know the rugged edge, what it means to stand and feel the last rocks on the worn sole. It’s with this in mind that I can see that not everyone is right in the head.

While imperfect, let me run my hands over your cracked skull and hold you until the monsters go away for a little while. Don’t be afraid of my tears, they weep to find a way to water the hope that still lives on in the darkest of places.

Don’t melt away like snow in the afternoon, dissolve in the rain like ephemeral sugar. In my weakness I remain because I care, and still do.

When the light in your eyes start to fade don’t forget the words I’ve prayed into your broken spirit. I will sing you the song of the loved and I will love you until you are nothing less than whole.

Love will find a way.

What does it mean to be here?

6500 miles from the place I call home, I watch the people I care for carry on in my absence.

How long will it take for my love to travel across the seas?

In an age where online shopping is a norm, when everything is answered in a blink of an eye, this question may very well strike as redundant. It’s no longer a question of how long it will take, but how long will it exist.

Here, these are my whispered hopes in the moonlight:

When you find yourself unable to sleep because of pain, remember me. I’m wide awake because of what geography does to the sun and time. I’m catching rainbows while you’re catching stars, we’re watching lights no matter where we are. And we both know that deep down, light has a way of triumphing the dark. It pierces the illusion of fear and melts the shadow of doubt away.

To be here, it might be all that I have. This moment will never come by again. Yet it might be all I need.

This I know: I will hold you, even as we hold on to the God that never lets go.

You’re at your wits’ end. No need for me to see broken eyes or shaking fingers, to guess the erratic heartbeat. It began with a whisper before it transformed into a deafening roar. They drowned reason.

It hurts to watch. Yet I can’t let it go just like this.

Stranger you are, stranger you still will be. Don’t go. I can’t have this space rid of you.

Listen, let me listen. I have no remedy, but I will not turn at the sight of ugly.

These scars, these hurts, don’t leave them bleeding. I am here, the isolation you speak of is a lie concocted by the harm.

For if I could face the darkness for this person and that… why would I not, for you?

Newsflash: In a world so connected, we’ve found more ways to die.