I feel like maybe I'm cheating, because this is practically non-fiction, but whatever. You guys can now stare into the outpouring of my thoughts.
---
Drew,
I doubt you will ever read the words that I’ve written on this page, simply because I doubt I’ll ever let you, which is a bit of a shame, really. Perhaps it would do us both good for you to read the words to follow, but alas, I’ve always been a bit of a pansy when it comes to sharing personal feelings. But, if you are reading this, thank you (also, you should congratulate me on being quite brave and contrary to my nature).
Fears aside, I’m not sure why I’m writing this. I think I’m writing it simply so I can see my thoughts on a page and, hopefully, understand them a little better. Honestly, my thoughts are quite confusing at the current time, so bare with me as we both try to understand them. I’ll do my best to be clear.
Now, where do I start? I suppose the beginning would be a good place to begin. I remember seeing you for the first time. You were between the door to the youth room and the drum set in the corner, and you were halfway turned away from me. I remember thinking that you looked really good in glasses. And that you could grow a hell of a beard. Also, let me say this as from someone who has brown hair and brown eyes: you should be quite happy that your parents decided to birth you with dark hair and sea-green eyes. God. What a combination.
Moving on. I think the next time I even really talked to you was at the retreat in November. You were so shy and quiet at the time. I remember how you always hung out with Raelynn. Man, that girl is funny. She had the best laugh of anyone I’ve ever heard. I can understand why she made you feel a little less out of place.
I think we only really started to spend time together around when summer started. The best summer of my life, might I add. Do you remember that time when you were set on playing StarCraft? I nearly stole my brother’s laptop, you had to buy me a copy for twenty dollars, and then when we got to your house we never even played it. In fact, I’m pretty sure that Shane, Paul, You, and I, just sat around and talked to each other on MSN Messenger despite the fact that we were in the same room. And then Shane and I spent the night, and you two shared the mattress for about an hour before you realized you would rather be on the floor. Heh, good times.
Oh, and how can I forget the million and a half rides you gave me? Most of which were at around two o’clock in the morning, as well. I can’t believe you didn’t get sick of me, but there we were, once again driving up to my house that’s about twenty minutes from where you live, at ridiculously late hours. I miss your car a lot.
Do you remember that night when you were giving Amanda and me a ride, and you drove up her road at about one mile per hour so we could talk longer? Or when we were parked in my driveway for at least twenty minutes, and you kept telling me to get out, but we kept talking anyway? On the drive to my house I had rolled down the window and wrapped my arm around the outside of your car, and smelled the fresh wind whipping on my face. It was freezing cold, but it was the most beautiful feeling I’ve ever experienced. You asked me why I wouldn’t leave, and I never actually answered your question. So let me answer it now.
I didn’t want to leave your car because that was the most peaceful place I’ve ever found. I can’t explain why, but when I was in the back seat, and it was pitch black outside, and I would look up at the stars and watch the trees blurring past underneath, I felt a calm spring up within me. Drew, when you would give me a ride home, it was the most beautiful place I could even imagine journeying to. And that’s the greatest gift I have yet to receive from any human being. So, there’s your answer, even if it is a couple years late.
Then you were about to leave for college. Silly me, I got so selfish. I apologize again for my behavior during that August. I know you’ve forgiven me, and I accept it gratefully, but I still feel bad about it. But, at the time, writing an ambiguous note and pairing it with a painting was the only way I knew to keep myself sane. I remember painting that picture and thinking of you the entire time, only to give it to you, despite knowing that you would have no use for it and that you’d probably throw it away. But at that point, it wasn’t even for you, it was for me. Maybe one of these days I’ll give you a gift you’ll actually like.
And then I told you I liked you. Over MSN. Note the self, never use MSN for anything serious ever again. What a god-awful idea. Honestly, what was I thinking? Who tells anyone they care about something deep and personal over MSN? You still reacted reasonably well, though. I felt so awkward and ********. And then I saw you one last time before you left for college, and you were so nice. You know, Drew, for someone who has such a sarcastic sense of humor, you know the perfect times to be sweet. Make sure that never changes. It’s one of your better features.
When you went to college, we definitely stopped talking. It was awful. You would occasionally ask me to download a torrent file since your campus blocked them, and I remember feeling really quite angry that you made me your torrent-***** after that whole ordeal. What a selfish prick I can be. At least I got over that one.
By Christmas my memories started to fade away. That’s not to say I didn’t remember them, but they drifted away to the far depths of my mind. In fact, I thought I had gotten over you, but as I discovered later, that was entirely an illusion. I really only saw you during Christmas break at Jeff and Amy’s wedding, in which I awkwardly avoided you because I still felt so weird. That was stupid of me. You never let it get weird between us, only I did. For that I apologize as well.
Then summer came once again, and I didn’t see much of you until July. That was the first month I began to see the real you. Like when we were outside of Shine’s Sushi and, despite the fact that I was driving at this point, you asked me to get in your car. When I got in you asked me if I remembered all the rides you gave me. I suddenly started jabbering and acting like what you said was crazy because that’s what I do when what I really need to do is share my true feelings. What I should have said was, “Hell yes,” but it was reassuring to know that you missed giving me rides as well. Who would have known something so seemingly mundane would have turned into something beautiful?
Then you came to Mountain Village to paint houses, and I didn’t even know you were coming because I had been gone the previous week visiting Vancouver. That was a wonderful week. I learned a lot about who you are that week, including the full extent of your humor. You have such a goofy sense of humor. You always overreact, and you always act like everything is a huge deal, but it’s all in a hidden sarcastic tone. It took me a while to learn to take how you act not very seriously, because most of the time you’re simply pretending as to make life more interesting. I won’t lie, I’m often the same way; but I found by pretending to care, after awhile, you really do start to care. Hopefully that won’t be the case with you. Especially seeing as it’s really quite cute to watch you make a big fuss about things, when we can meet each other’s eyes and have a bit of an inward laugh. Like we get a part of the joke that nobody else gets.
I specifically remember when you took your contacts out for the night, and I told you that you looked quite good in glasses compared to most people, and the next day you wore your glasses. That made me quite happier than you can possibly imagine.
And I’m sure you remember when you thought your friend Lisa had gotten engaged, and you were throwing a total fit. It serves you right for assuming things from ambiguous comments on someone’s Myspace. That night you were so frustrated. “She’s dumber than a pile of rocks!” you proclaimed, and you sent her some mean message. But all I remember thinking is that you must love her a lot. You may not have the best ways of showing it, but you have such a loving heart. And the next day when you were grouchy and blamed it on your sarcasm? I knew better.
Your singing always made me laugh. Not because you were bad, but because you would always do such funny things. Like when we were singing hymns at Kevin’s house, and you kept singing the optional echo part on this one song, and almost burst out laughing each time.
But what I really remember is the way you would look at me with such an… expression. I’m not sure how to describe it. I could never meet your eyes for long. I’m so awful at eye contact. But those glances were important to me. It felt like you were sharing a bit of yourself with me each time, like it was just you and I, despite being in a room surrounded by people.
I suppose it’s a bit fruitless for me to continue clamoring for a friendship with you. I know that we’re doomed – not by ourselves, but by fate. You certainly aren’t going to stay here after you’re done with college, and I’ll probably do the same. I suppose we have a couple more summers to go, but the impending detachment always seems to loom over my head. And yet, despite that omen, my heart fails to let go. If there’s one thing that’s easy for me to do, it’s clinging to you and the hope that maybe life won’t split us apart forever. One can dream, can’t they?
And yet, at the same time, I always thought it was a bit odd that you still liked me. I don’t think you like me out of pity – that seems, to me, out of character. You’re not one to befriend another out of pity. But it’s not as if I was unclear on my attraction to you, and yet you continue to treat me the same as you always have. I can’t say I would expect the same from most men. In fact, Drew, I suspect you’re a much greater man than you think you are.
It’s a shame that God made me to communicate love in time spent together. All my friends are distant, whether physically or emotionally, and it’s hard for me to never cease in my feelings for them. As they physically drift away from me, I find our relationship doing the same. It’s a shame because that’s what our relationship consists of. Drifting in and out, like boats un-tethered to a harbor.
I don’t have much hope for our relationship, Drew. Much. I’m not convinced you ever liked me enough to seek a friendship with me over anyone else, which is quite alright. I can’t help but feel that, friends though we may be, most of it was in my head. Yet, who’s to say that makes it any less real?
Perhaps I should just wish you peace and happiness and be done with it. It’s not as though we can forge lives around each other, and I’m not sure either of us would really want to; which, as I have said, is a shame. It would be much easier to simply bid you farewell and move on with my life. Yet, choosing the easy way, in my experience, has rarely been the correct decision. I can hope that pattern will emerge as truth once again, can I not?
If I were a realist, I would call it quits and send you on your way to college and out of my life. But I am not entirely a realist. There’s always been a part of me that clings to optimism and idealism.
I suppose this is the conclusion to my letter. Even if all I have said previous to this is worthless bunk, I hope that you will heed this: you’re a **** fine example of a man and a human being, and God sees that a lot better than I do.
I hope college continues to be a blessing to you, no matter where we stand.
Goodbye, Drew. For now.
---
Drew,
I doubt you will ever read the words that I’ve written on this page, simply because I doubt I’ll ever let you, which is a bit of a shame, really. Perhaps it would do us both good for you to read the words to follow, but alas, I’ve always been a bit of a pansy when it comes to sharing personal feelings. But, if you are reading this, thank you (also, you should congratulate me on being quite brave and contrary to my nature).
Fears aside, I’m not sure why I’m writing this. I think I’m writing it simply so I can see my thoughts on a page and, hopefully, understand them a little better. Honestly, my thoughts are quite confusing at the current time, so bare with me as we both try to understand them. I’ll do my best to be clear.
Now, where do I start? I suppose the beginning would be a good place to begin. I remember seeing you for the first time. You were between the door to the youth room and the drum set in the corner, and you were halfway turned away from me. I remember thinking that you looked really good in glasses. And that you could grow a hell of a beard. Also, let me say this as from someone who has brown hair and brown eyes: you should be quite happy that your parents decided to birth you with dark hair and sea-green eyes. God. What a combination.
Moving on. I think the next time I even really talked to you was at the retreat in November. You were so shy and quiet at the time. I remember how you always hung out with Raelynn. Man, that girl is funny. She had the best laugh of anyone I’ve ever heard. I can understand why she made you feel a little less out of place.
I think we only really started to spend time together around when summer started. The best summer of my life, might I add. Do you remember that time when you were set on playing StarCraft? I nearly stole my brother’s laptop, you had to buy me a copy for twenty dollars, and then when we got to your house we never even played it. In fact, I’m pretty sure that Shane, Paul, You, and I, just sat around and talked to each other on MSN Messenger despite the fact that we were in the same room. And then Shane and I spent the night, and you two shared the mattress for about an hour before you realized you would rather be on the floor. Heh, good times.
Oh, and how can I forget the million and a half rides you gave me? Most of which were at around two o’clock in the morning, as well. I can’t believe you didn’t get sick of me, but there we were, once again driving up to my house that’s about twenty minutes from where you live, at ridiculously late hours. I miss your car a lot.
Do you remember that night when you were giving Amanda and me a ride, and you drove up her road at about one mile per hour so we could talk longer? Or when we were parked in my driveway for at least twenty minutes, and you kept telling me to get out, but we kept talking anyway? On the drive to my house I had rolled down the window and wrapped my arm around the outside of your car, and smelled the fresh wind whipping on my face. It was freezing cold, but it was the most beautiful feeling I’ve ever experienced. You asked me why I wouldn’t leave, and I never actually answered your question. So let me answer it now.
I didn’t want to leave your car because that was the most peaceful place I’ve ever found. I can’t explain why, but when I was in the back seat, and it was pitch black outside, and I would look up at the stars and watch the trees blurring past underneath, I felt a calm spring up within me. Drew, when you would give me a ride home, it was the most beautiful place I could even imagine journeying to. And that’s the greatest gift I have yet to receive from any human being. So, there’s your answer, even if it is a couple years late.
Then you were about to leave for college. Silly me, I got so selfish. I apologize again for my behavior during that August. I know you’ve forgiven me, and I accept it gratefully, but I still feel bad about it. But, at the time, writing an ambiguous note and pairing it with a painting was the only way I knew to keep myself sane. I remember painting that picture and thinking of you the entire time, only to give it to you, despite knowing that you would have no use for it and that you’d probably throw it away. But at that point, it wasn’t even for you, it was for me. Maybe one of these days I’ll give you a gift you’ll actually like.
And then I told you I liked you. Over MSN. Note the self, never use MSN for anything serious ever again. What a god-awful idea. Honestly, what was I thinking? Who tells anyone they care about something deep and personal over MSN? You still reacted reasonably well, though. I felt so awkward and ********. And then I saw you one last time before you left for college, and you were so nice. You know, Drew, for someone who has such a sarcastic sense of humor, you know the perfect times to be sweet. Make sure that never changes. It’s one of your better features.
When you went to college, we definitely stopped talking. It was awful. You would occasionally ask me to download a torrent file since your campus blocked them, and I remember feeling really quite angry that you made me your torrent-***** after that whole ordeal. What a selfish prick I can be. At least I got over that one.
By Christmas my memories started to fade away. That’s not to say I didn’t remember them, but they drifted away to the far depths of my mind. In fact, I thought I had gotten over you, but as I discovered later, that was entirely an illusion. I really only saw you during Christmas break at Jeff and Amy’s wedding, in which I awkwardly avoided you because I still felt so weird. That was stupid of me. You never let it get weird between us, only I did. For that I apologize as well.
Then summer came once again, and I didn’t see much of you until July. That was the first month I began to see the real you. Like when we were outside of Shine’s Sushi and, despite the fact that I was driving at this point, you asked me to get in your car. When I got in you asked me if I remembered all the rides you gave me. I suddenly started jabbering and acting like what you said was crazy because that’s what I do when what I really need to do is share my true feelings. What I should have said was, “Hell yes,” but it was reassuring to know that you missed giving me rides as well. Who would have known something so seemingly mundane would have turned into something beautiful?
Then you came to Mountain Village to paint houses, and I didn’t even know you were coming because I had been gone the previous week visiting Vancouver. That was a wonderful week. I learned a lot about who you are that week, including the full extent of your humor. You have such a goofy sense of humor. You always overreact, and you always act like everything is a huge deal, but it’s all in a hidden sarcastic tone. It took me a while to learn to take how you act not very seriously, because most of the time you’re simply pretending as to make life more interesting. I won’t lie, I’m often the same way; but I found by pretending to care, after awhile, you really do start to care. Hopefully that won’t be the case with you. Especially seeing as it’s really quite cute to watch you make a big fuss about things, when we can meet each other’s eyes and have a bit of an inward laugh. Like we get a part of the joke that nobody else gets.
I specifically remember when you took your contacts out for the night, and I told you that you looked quite good in glasses compared to most people, and the next day you wore your glasses. That made me quite happier than you can possibly imagine.
And I’m sure you remember when you thought your friend Lisa had gotten engaged, and you were throwing a total fit. It serves you right for assuming things from ambiguous comments on someone’s Myspace. That night you were so frustrated. “She’s dumber than a pile of rocks!” you proclaimed, and you sent her some mean message. But all I remember thinking is that you must love her a lot. You may not have the best ways of showing it, but you have such a loving heart. And the next day when you were grouchy and blamed it on your sarcasm? I knew better.
Your singing always made me laugh. Not because you were bad, but because you would always do such funny things. Like when we were singing hymns at Kevin’s house, and you kept singing the optional echo part on this one song, and almost burst out laughing each time.
But what I really remember is the way you would look at me with such an… expression. I’m not sure how to describe it. I could never meet your eyes for long. I’m so awful at eye contact. But those glances were important to me. It felt like you were sharing a bit of yourself with me each time, like it was just you and I, despite being in a room surrounded by people.
I suppose it’s a bit fruitless for me to continue clamoring for a friendship with you. I know that we’re doomed – not by ourselves, but by fate. You certainly aren’t going to stay here after you’re done with college, and I’ll probably do the same. I suppose we have a couple more summers to go, but the impending detachment always seems to loom over my head. And yet, despite that omen, my heart fails to let go. If there’s one thing that’s easy for me to do, it’s clinging to you and the hope that maybe life won’t split us apart forever. One can dream, can’t they?
And yet, at the same time, I always thought it was a bit odd that you still liked me. I don’t think you like me out of pity – that seems, to me, out of character. You’re not one to befriend another out of pity. But it’s not as if I was unclear on my attraction to you, and yet you continue to treat me the same as you always have. I can’t say I would expect the same from most men. In fact, Drew, I suspect you’re a much greater man than you think you are.
It’s a shame that God made me to communicate love in time spent together. All my friends are distant, whether physically or emotionally, and it’s hard for me to never cease in my feelings for them. As they physically drift away from me, I find our relationship doing the same. It’s a shame because that’s what our relationship consists of. Drifting in and out, like boats un-tethered to a harbor.
I don’t have much hope for our relationship, Drew. Much. I’m not convinced you ever liked me enough to seek a friendship with me over anyone else, which is quite alright. I can’t help but feel that, friends though we may be, most of it was in my head. Yet, who’s to say that makes it any less real?
Perhaps I should just wish you peace and happiness and be done with it. It’s not as though we can forge lives around each other, and I’m not sure either of us would really want to; which, as I have said, is a shame. It would be much easier to simply bid you farewell and move on with my life. Yet, choosing the easy way, in my experience, has rarely been the correct decision. I can hope that pattern will emerge as truth once again, can I not?
If I were a realist, I would call it quits and send you on your way to college and out of my life. But I am not entirely a realist. There’s always been a part of me that clings to optimism and idealism.
I suppose this is the conclusion to my letter. Even if all I have said previous to this is worthless bunk, I hope that you will heed this: you’re a **** fine example of a man and a human being, and God sees that a lot better than I do.
I hope college continues to be a blessing to you, no matter where we stand.
Goodbye, Drew. For now.
