A Love letter. Innenn matthey?

It's been a year. A passer-by on the INTERNET told me this place is empty and needed a little loving.

I agree.

Last I heard from you was a strange phone-call at an odd hour. Do you remember? I think you were at whatshisname's place. Your brain a butter-in-the-sun mess with some strange chemical that words were too thick to describe.

How are you?

I miss you.

I think of our friendship and smile. If anyone plotted the points, it really makes for a gorgeous story. I know I've told you this a million times, that you've changed so much, and so wonderfully. Like a bloom that caught the right amount of sun, and blossomed. Like a beast that draws itself to height, and opens its eyes.

Thinking of you fills me with a kind of heaviness. Of all the things I should've said all these years. Of all the things I don't have the words to say. Of the weight of the simplicity and guilelessness of us.

Looking back, maybe, at some time, I corrupted it, and you were the one upholding its intent. An unfortunate, unaware Jesus carrying a crucifix of no wrong you did.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not understanding this earlier, or better.

I'm especially sorry for all the times I have told you to come back - not geographically, but to being the person I was far, far more comfortable with. Far more in-tune with. Far less intimidated by. A person I could understand better.

A person who has left.

I think part of that weight I feel when I think of you, is that knowledge. That you are a person who has left. Not in the desertion understanding of the word. But a person who has outgrown his odd red Champ. A person who has outgrown my memory of him.

All this while when I said I miss you, I understand now, that I have meant it as missing this memory of you, because I do not fully understand this new version of you, or this version of me that stands startling, saddening, awkward in juxtaposition. Or simply beside it, hand-in-snug-hand.

But this is growing up. This is the passage of time. This is that yawning aisle.

I hope you're revolted and terrified, as I am, by the idea of being a shadow of us, because at some time, there was an us. I am sorry I am not the sort that will settle for our settling into expressing a bygone time with platitudes and the ghost of affection. Our time is not finished. Our work is not done.

I'm sorry I have been too un-moored to reach out, and be exactly the one thing we have always been for each other: One snug hand for another. Giver and taker of insult, pain, hurt, misunderstanding. Other half of a by-two. The perfect empty lungful for a cigarette that's too much to finish.

Here, and now, I will say this with renewed meaning:
I miss you.

Of course it does, what do you think? :)

How you be? Why have you stopped writing me horrendously long-winding prose?

This exists!

Hello, Moo.

New Year Love

:) i'm just thinking how distance grows on the passage of time, like algae.

missing the monkey. come back soon.

:)

Four years :) wow, it's been a flurry, huh?
How you?

PS: Did you know Screwtape was out of circulation!? I found it on flipkart. Hurray Internet! Or where you inhabit - hurrah!

Our first post was in 2006? When I was 21, and plagued by pimples? And medical school, and pointlessness? Shockingly, not much has changed.
And what was the first surprise? I am completely blank. Was it a book? A cake? A poem?

Four years, Mooli, four. It just feels weird.

Shit, you're right.

I saw it just now.
Let's see when you see this.

I miss you. Come back. The old you, on that same park-bench in fourth block.