It passes by unremarked more often than it should but, when we stop to think about it, the bond we share runs deeper than any other we may care to form – even deeper than those between ourselves and our great loves. That being the case, this letter is now twenty-eight years overdue; and for this, I apologise.
You say that we don’t always see eye-to-eye; and I must unhappily agree. If it’s any consolation, I don’t consider what was said last night to be a fallout, or even an argument. (Although, perhaps this is yet more evidence of our differences?) Truthfully, yesterday’s words were exchanged with less hostility than I had anticipated; more heavy rain than hailstorm. Either way, they needed to be said, I’m glad that they were and I’m grateful to you for having waded into what had appeared (to me, at least) a rough sea, at best.
I want you to know that I really do appreciate your offer. I hope that it shan’t be necessary to take you up on it, but I suppose only time will tell. With any luck, neither it, nor circumstance, will get the better of me.
I can’t – and admittedly, don’t think I really want to – know how widespread or mutual this thought is but, I know there is a significant difference between us; or, to be more specific, I and the rest. I don’t hold any of what follows against you, but I must admit that it upsets me at times. I think this is why conversations such as the one we had last night can sometimes feel so hopeless. I don’t expect you all to understand where it is I am trying to get to: it is, after all, inescapably niche. Indeed, among our circles, it is at best, misunderstood, and at worst, out of place. If I’m being honest, at times I feel that these labels apply more to myself than my passions, but what can one do? I can’t be anything else and nor would I want to be.
Perhaps though, there will come a time when these labels can be altogether abandoned. I do sincerely believe that this could be the case one day. Let us look at it in this way: I am a slither of string forever circling the eye of a needle and eventually I shall pass on through the other side. When I do, all other eyes, previously perplexed, will fall into focus. At this moment, I will (finally) be understood and I will have become someone you all can be truly proud of.
At risk of sounding conceited, I’d like to round off with a brief bite of indulgence.
More than a couple of friends have complimented me on my writing, and one has confessed that they even envy me. With this in mind, I hope that I have done their kindness justice. These words come from the bottom of my heart and are supposed to speak to and exclusively positive emotion.
Thank you for everything you have done and, I know, will continue to do. Words, I confess, will never be enough, but they just might be the best I can do. Nonetheless, I shall never lay them to rest: there is always a sweeter way to say something.
I love you.