Dear Best Friend,

I really thought I was in love with you.  Isn't that weird to think about?  We were eighteen, driving to school, watching movies late at night, going to concerts all summer long.  We were the best of friends, but you're a boy and I'm a girl, so in my mind we were meant to be something more.  And I was right, we were meant to be something more, but not in the way I had imagined.

You are more to me than any friend, any boyfriend, anybody on this Earth.  You are a part of me.

When you first told me that you were gay, you put it so eloquently, "it's not that I don't like you, I just don't like what you are." Looking back I feel intense guilt that a moment that should have been about you was suddenly about me.  I feel ashamed that you were nervous to tell me, that you thought I would cry.  What does that say about who I was then?  Was I that selfish?  Now when I look back on that conversation, my eyes do well up because that was the day you became my best friend for a lifetime.

Since that moment, we have shared in every major, minor, mediocre or monstrous happening in each others lives.  The day I left for college and you doubled back to my house for a second goodbye hug.  The day you got into college and called me from the train, secretly in route to surprise me in New York.    The day I moved home from Philadelphia.  The day you moved to Washington.  Every phone call about a boy - your first love, my first love, and every one after that.  Family reunions, dinners, birthdays, holidays, weddings... you're my eternal plus one.

I think about all of the time I used to spending wishing, hoping, praying that you would realize we were meant to be together, and I'm glad for it.  Because we are meant to be together.  You and me. Us. Taking on the world together, because who you are as a person makes me who I am as a person.  You are my reason when I can't think straight.  You are my laughter when my tears are too much.  You're my call-me-anytime.  My "cut the shit, Jane."  My slumber party, defender from bullies, biggest cheerleader and toughest critic.  You are a part of me.

I don't think I thank you enough.  Maybe because I can't thank you enough.  I have grown to be someone I like because I have you in my life.  I am who I want to be because of you.  You are the strongest and bravest man I have ever met, and I am grateful you let me draw on your strength.  You are loyal and kind and beautiful, and I cannot imagine my life without you.

My fear is that I need you more -- that you are all of those things on your own and that I offer nothing in return for your unyielding, unwavering love.  But please know that I am here with you, for you, a part of you forever and a day.

I love you until the moon becomes the sun.

Suppose You Can Get What You Want...

Whenever I find an eyelash on my cheek in the mirror I am sure to make a wish, I take birthday candles very seriously, and I love fortune cookies.  I wouldn't describe myself as superstitious, but rather I have a lot of faith that what is meant for a person finds its way into his or her life.  Fortune cookies, to me, are the best part of sushi nights with my family, chinese food nights with my friends, and are an excellent excuse for mai tais or scorpion bowls.

I always like to say that my former boyfriend and I fell in love over fortune cookies.  He probably would not say that, but I do.  The first time I really remember the two of us having a conversation together was over a fortune.  A common friend of ours ordered chinese food for dinner and offered me the cookie.  Together my former boyfriend and I opened it and read allowed our first fortune together

Your income will increase.

I was disappointed.  I don't like the fortunes that have simple, literal meanings; my former boyfriend on the other hand was beyond excited.  We were getting paid the next day, so in his mind, the fortune was meant for us.  When I went to throw it away he stopped me, "hey, wait... you should save that," so I stuck it in the back of my phone case.  

The next time we got a fortune together was the first time I visited him that summer, the next time he visited me, and the list goes on.  Fortunes were our thing.  We got one last New Years and read it at midnight. We would sneak them from the dining hall for each other on stir fry Wednesdays --  it was our fun little game, and I saved them all.  My favorite one we ever got was from a restaurant in my town.  We stopped there one day on our way back from the grocery store and asked for just one fortune.

Our brightest blazes of gladness are commonly kindled by unexpected sparks.  

I should correct my previous statement: I fell in love over fortune cookies.  Ever since we have broken up, I have been less than delighted when my sister and I finish our sushi or my friends' scorpion bowl is empty because my favorite part of Asian cuisine has been tainted.  Fortune cookies started to become a bitter reminder of all of the fun memories we had.  Is it pathetic that cookies started making me sad? Maybe, but they did nonetheless. 

The other day, I went to pick up dinner for my family at the same sushi restaurant near the grocery store where we had gotten my favorite fortune.  While I was there I asked for one extra cookie to open by myself in the car.  This fortune, I told myself, was meant for me.  Whatever it said was going to set the tone for my new life - my new outlook for the year ahead.  I know how cheesy this all sounds, but that's honestly what I did.  I opened the fortune and found a phrase I truly believe was intended for me.

Suppose you can get what you want...

At first I thought that the universe was telling me that if I want to get back together with my former boyfriend I can, but then I took a second look.  My fortune is telling me that I can, without a doubt, find what I'm looking for.  I should never settle.  I can find someone, something, anything that makes me happy as long as I know what I want and I accept nothing less.  So for now, I don't know exactly where to find what I'm looking for but it's out there; and I'll find it in the unlikeliest of places because our brightest blazes of gladness are commonly kindled by unexpected sparks. 

Two Emotions

I recently started following an Instagram account of a boy that I go to school with.  While looking through his photographs I saw that eleven weeks ago he shared seven pictures of white lined paper on which he wrote his most personal fears.  I was awestruck.  He mentioned in the caption of the first picture that he was inspired by an artist that had done something similar and he felt like it was "something he had to do" - as if sharing his fears in a public way would help him feel less afraid.  I was beyond impressed by the honesty of his list, and have been inspired to create my own.  I'm not sure that writing down my fears will have the same as confronting them, but it is certainly worth a shot.

I am afraid.

I am afraid at all time that people do not like me.  I always assume that a person's first impression of me is negative and I am constantly worried that people speak negatively about me when I leave a room.

I am always fearful of entering social situations.  Before entering a social setting I spend about ten minutes mentally preparing for what we will be doing, who will be there, and how I anticipate acting.  My good friends know that I "rev myself up" before any event, even if it is just watching a movie with them.  I become flustered when plans change or if I am in contact with people I was not prepared for.  "Bumping into" someone I was not expecting is my worst nightmare.

I am afraid that my mother will never allow herself to be fully happy.  Ten years after my father passed away she began going on dates.  After about four dinners with the same man she stopped dating entirely claiming that she "felt like she was cheating on someone."  What an amazing tribute to my parents' love; however, it makes my heart sad that my mother thinks she cannot find love again.  I'm afraid that she is missing out on happiness because she is holding onto something that she will only have again after this life.

I am afraid that I will never find a love like my parents'.

I am afraid that I will always care more, love deeper, and give unconditionally.  I am afraid that no one will ever feel the same way for me, and that I will emotionally exhaust myself for others who will not or cannot reciprocate.

I am afraid I will lose myself.  Each time I hit a bump in the road, I am completely derailed.  I do not handle tragedy, separation, or major changes with poise, and my behavior and way of looking at the world is ultimately altered.  It takes months for me to recover, but I eventually find my way back to my faith, my family, and myself.  I am afraid that my mind is not strong enough. That someday something will happen - the final straw - and I will not bounce back.  God-willing, it will not be the loss of another family member…because I truly would not recover.

I am afraid of almost everything.

Being afraid is not always a bad thing.  Fear itself stops us from putting ourselves in harms way.  It is the reason that women are less likely to be victims of crime - we engage in more preventative behaviors because we are afraid.  Fear, however, is debilitating.  It stops us from taking the good risks, as well.  It is one of two emotions in this world that both protects us yet leads to our demise; the other is love.  The combination of the two can be deadly or exhilarating, but it is hard to tell where one stops and the other begins.  I fear falling in love again, but I'm also afraid of a life without it.  Unfortunately, until I can get over the former I will be living the latter.