A year ago, today, I posted this. It wasn’t exactly what I wanted to say, but it wasn’t too short of what I meant, so it went on the Internet for 15 or so people to call sweet and such. This year, I was ahead of the game and had this post drafted like, a month ago. And it was virtually the same. It touched on the same principals – that you’re you and that equals all shades of awesome – and it ended on much the same note: don’t stop being you.
As if you need me to tell you that.
Anyway. It’s wrong. It’s right, yes, it has everything I mean to say, but it’s written for an audience, flowery and contemplative – it’s not me. And really, if I was going to write a post about you, because today is your birthday, it should read something like this:
I miss you. We never talk anymore, we never see each other, every time we make tentative plans, they seem to get broken down upon. But that’s okay.
I’ve known you for half of my life, but really only known you for the past decade. You’ve become a part of me, whether you want to be or not. Regardless of where you were or are, whether it was a 20 minute commute or across the country or world, I feel as if you were here.
I know, it doesn’t make much sense, that I know little about what’s going on with you outside of your facebook wall; you don’t see or hear what I’m doing unless you read my blog. We sometimes used to talk nightly. We sometimes used to call long-distance once a week. Sometimes, it was every few months, or I would respond to your emails while you were away from me.
I don’t miss those.
Those conversations and written words were about loving you and wanting to be a part of your world. About reminding you that I was here. And about needing you. Because, for some reason, you became my constant go-to. I was entirely reliant on your opinion, thinking ‘WWAD?’ and wondering how you might judge me.
I put you on a pedestal and I wanted to be more like you, constantly, while also wanting to be as important for you as you were to me.
Yet, I knew that I couldn’t be more like you – warm, touching and touchable, trusting, optimistic, so driven – and I knew that I could never repay everything that you’ve done for me, and start giving you more than I have taken.
I grew up.
I learned, suddenly, without looking back on the lessons that brought me the knowledge, that friendship can be a two-way street without a balance of withdrawals and deposits. That everything didn’t have to equal out exactly between two friends – one night of heart break on the phone didn’t mean that another was owed. Or that guilt was required for not partaking in it.
I woke up shortly in this new year and I realized that even though I owe you so much, really, it didn’t mean that I was unworthy of you. Or that our lack of communication sometimes was your way of stepping away from all of my constant drama – that you needed to recouperate from being my friend.
You have been one of the major forces in my life, someone I called at two in the morning, scared; someone I constantly worried I wasn’t good enough to know. And you have been one of the few that didn’t tell me how wonderful I was as a means to compensate for my lack of self-esteem – you tuned into messages that I could hear. You were there when I needed you to be, you weren’t unrealistic or lacking logic in your advice.
I listened. Finally.
I know now that I’m blessed to know you, whether that means we speak rarely, monthly, daily or hourly. Because of you, because of our displaced, yet not disfunctional friendship, I’ve become able to have deep, meaningful friendships with other women – something I was never before capable of.
I can open up to someone and not worry immediately that they didn’t call me back because they really don’t like me. I can be myself, and welcoming to new people and attitudes, and have found a way to become enthralled with getting to know someone new. And with bringing them into my heart.
Because of you, I have found a piece of me that I didn’t know was lost – the ability to love, regardless of tangible love being shown back constantly. I don’t need my best friends to tell me they consider me their best friend. I don’t need to hear ‘I love you’ every time I end a conversation with someone I love.
My self-esteem hasn’t healed, but my heart has. I don’t fight to let anyone in, anymore. And it’s because of you – because I could be intimately vulnerable with you and never have to pay for it.
Because of you, I’m healthier than I’ve ever been, in a way I’ve never known.
For that, I owe you the world.
I love you. I miss you. I hope that everything you ever want, you get; I know that I don’t have to hope, because people get what’s coming to them. You are worthy of the best. And I’m proud to carry you in my heart.
Happy birthday, Adi.
