To the boy who disappointed me the most,
You had amazing eyes, and you were able to make everyone laugh. You told stories that made everyone’s eyes glisten with rapture, and each of those stories was wild and captivating.
You certainly captivated me.
And when you weren’t telling your stories, you listened to me. We didn’t just chat, we discussed and conversed. And I appreciated that so much.
You have a vivacity for life and for living. They are different things, you know. When you retold your adventures abroad and expressed your innate desire to constantly move, you awoke something in me. Something that had always been there but had never been fostered. I never knew that I could nurture it until I met you.
You lived a life structured by your own rules. I respected you so much for making decisions and following them, for never being afraid to step into something unknown. I think you craved that rush of adrenaline, the constant flight in chase of the next challenge, the next rush.
To me, in my stagnant state, your self-attained ability to move and your freedom were inspiring. I wanted to emulate that. I still do.
See, you taught me to be courageous in ways I never could have achieved alone. You captured my imagination and made me crave more from myself, from life. I step out braver than I was a year ago, with more confidence in myself and the choices I make in my life. I make my way through life in a way which makes me happy, and I am proud of that.
So, this letter is not in anger. It is not a tirade of hurt and ill-feeling, not a list of the ways you screwed up.
It is an ode to everything that I leaned from and because of and in spite of you, and how I still carry that with me today.