There is a very small subset of people who actually enjoy long haul flights. They are usually the kind of people who are happy to live their lives internally, inside their own little bubble of thought and feeling, completely oblivious to the obvious discomfort of everyone else around them. The only moments of distraction being when the flight attendants start serving food, and when the person next you finally works up the courage to ask you to move so they can go to the bathroom. Usually I count myself as one of those people, but this time it was a little different. Every hour felt like five, as I struggled with the task I had assigned myself.
Ew, why? It took at least 20 attempts before I settled on my initial choice.
I hope this letter finds you well…
For the love of God. You call yourself a writer? What’s wrong with you? Just say what needs to be said. This is why I started writing in pencil, though I never did earn my pen license in 2nd grade anyway.
I have been trying far too hard to tell you something that I have been trying to tell you for a very long time. Do you remember that day when we were shopping for storage boxes? Then we walked through that part of the store with all those stuffed toys? There was a basket filled all these little love hearts, each with arms and velcro hands. You picked one up and started giggling, as you wrapped it around my arm. A heart that I wore on my sleeve. It was at that moment that I realized something important.
Oh boy, here goes. I took a deep breath, knowing that there are some things that can’t be unsaid.
I realized, for the first time, that I was in love with you. And from that moment on I fell in love with you over and over again, through an unpredictable series of events and dreams and coincidences. No matter how much I listened, or tried not to listen, it was if the universe was trying to tell me something. I couldn’t ignore it.
But now comes the part where we come crashing back to reality.
I don’t know if this is something you already knew, or if it’s something you interpreted as something else. I’m not ashamed of the way that I feel, but I’m not blind to the fact that there are things that make it difficult for us to be anything other than friends.
If it really is so impossible, then why am I here? Why am I writing this?
I learned a long time ago that it’s important to tell people how you feel. I would be betraying myself, and the signs I have read over and over again, if I didn’t at least tell you the truth. I love you, I’m in love with you, and I think that I always will be.
Maybe it’s time to stop this before it gets out of hand.
But I want you to know that my friendship is not conditional, I’m here no matter what happens. I know that you probably wont feel the same way that I do. So I will never bring this subject up ever again, regardless of how I feel, unless there’s something you want to say. We can be friends as we always have, if that is what you want.
End on a note of hope. Love is worth fighting for.
The alternative of course is that, maybe, you do feel the same way? In that case, I have no idea what happens next. But maybe together we can figure it out.
It’s no masterpiece, but if nothing else, it’s honest scribble written on a tray table.