Be still, stranger,

Hm... I'm happy for you. Even though things didn't work out for us, I think that you eventually did find the source that will be your happiness.

And, even though I know that you're picky about your friends and who you respect, and that your method of showing what you feel toward others has earned you many enemies, I'm secretly very pleased that I made your list.

So... I'm sorry for what went wrong, and thank you for what went right.

I sincerely hope that someday, when I think of my "favorite memory," it will have been replaced by something happier.

I love you!

I admit I'm curious as to how things might've turned out if you'd done things differently.

I think a different turnout would've required a different person, but... who can say? I'm sure the potential was there.

You always struck me as a decent guy. It was many years after I met you that I got to know you better. I don't dislike you, but I also don't feel any particular affection for you that would qualify as "like." It also took me a while to realize that you were actually a spoiled brat, which was a bit of news when I finally figured it out, because I'm not accustomed to grown men being spoiled brats. But, there you are.

I've never been in a serious relationship, so I've never had something end and then suffer the mentality that my heart had been broken.

I remember at some point of my life, I told myself that my heart hadn't been broken--it'd been stomped on, crushed, bruised, twisted, but not broken. Not shattered and in need of glue for repair.

And to date, I think it still stands true. I think my mentality is that heartbreak comes with requited love. Because I've been hurt, but I still don't think I've experienced my first real heartbreak yet.

But I came close. About three and a half years ago, actually, was probably my most devastating blow.

We both screwed up. But at that point, I can say that you had definitely screwed up more. You sent me mixed signals. Your mind flip-flopped. You didn't know what you wanted. You made decisions without thinking, and regretted it afterward. And I know that I forgave you long ago, and we got past it, but that's the part I'm having a hard time remembering now.

I associate you with the most devastating blow, even though you aren't the one that I loved the most in my life, because I can recall crying, for a good long time after we talked that day in May, and I was crying because you made me. You didn't do it on purpose; didn't even know about it, but it happened. The moment I got home, I broke.

I'm not really sure if I can say I'm glad it happened, but I do accept it. I learned a little. You learned a lot. Or maybe you learned a little and I learned a lot. And I guess, if we had never ended, I might have resented you later. Plus, you were my first stepping stone toward my lesson in realizing that my expectation for all older guys to be generally perfect is unfair. I put them on a pedestal and expect them to know everything, because half the time, they do.

But, and I'm glad I finally had this epiphany: it's not true. Boys and men are idiots no matter what age they are.

I'm not sure that "pester" is the right terminology, but I suppose you are probably the closest thing to someone who nags at my mind in a good or bad way. And hey, you fit both options-- good and bad.

You're the kind of mental bother that is a bother not because you're irritating, but because of all the meanings it could imply. I like you very much as a person, sometimes more -- but let's face it; we're not that close, and you're not going to miss me when I leave.

We're really acquaintances-- friends at best, but even then I feel as though we were only thrown together because of outside factors. Does that make it unfated?

For the moment, I actually don't think that I will miss you when I move. I don't know you well enough to miss you, really.

But I will miss having had the opportunity to get to know you. I miss it now, and there have been times where I wondered if I had played my cards right, or known how to play at all, if we would've ended up differently. If we might be better friends, sans the careful distance that there is now. I wish you'd forget that distance.

Kind of wish I'd forget you, but only if you forgot me, too.

Let me rethink that. Would I be okay if I didn't know you? Well, honestly, it's not like we have a whole album of fond memories to look back on. It's mostly me just genuinely liking the person that you are. I don't make you laugh, and I know it. We don't share the same sense of humor. Perhaps we did, but it's gone now.

So, if I forgot you... what would I be losing? I suppose the fondness that I have for you. I don't think you'd be losing much. Maybe the knowledge of another friend. In retrospect, I can't say I brought much to our relationship. Or I feel like I didn't. If I want to fool myself, I could probably say that maybe I did but just didn't know it.

Do I really want to forget you? Well, no, what I REALLY want is for me to be significant in your life. That's all anyone can ask, isn't it? To matter to someone else? To matter to someone that they care about?

Well... I suppose, even if we did want to matter to each other, it's all wrong right now.

There is little I can do for you, probably. And you for me. However, to the extent of my ability, I wish you the best of luck in your life. I admire you, and I think that you are on a good path, and that you are going to be okay. I hope that you will be a successful person, and that you will find happiness. Good luck.

I'm not sure if that means if I should address it to an actual person out there, that I idolize in every way, or if I'm supposed to be talking to me, at my most ideal?

Well, in spite of many people I admire, I'm pretty sure I don't want to BE someone else, because I've lived my life up to this point and that makes it mine.

The grass isn't always green, anyway.

Now, who I wish my person were -- that makes much more sense. But then again, it doesn't, because if I really wished it, then wouldn't I do it? Wouldn't it already be happening?

They say nobody is perfect, and that perfection is flawed, but who doesn't really want to perfect, relatively? It's a subjective point of view to begin with, but it's there. We all (mostly all) have a little something we'd like to change about ourselves. Physically, emotionally, mentally. I'm okay with my height, but I wouldn't mind NOT having scoliosis, or misaligned bones, or... I don't know, annoying hair that girls aren't supposed to have in this society because it's unsightly. I even have friends who like to pretend that girls don't fart. Granted, we're probably albino in comparison to the guy-to-fart ratio, but trust me, girls have farted on this earth. Yeah, I don't think anyone would be real upset to find themselves physically beautiful enough to turn heads. Except maybe Fire, but she's a fictional character and that's why I love her. She probably wouldn't be charming at all if she were in love with herself.

But wait, there are things within my power to change. I wish I were a better climber. I wish I were naturally a better badminton player. I wish I got bull's eye, every time, and knew it before I let go. I wish I had the ability to be myself around the boy I like, instead of clamming up and finding myself drawing blanks. What is this, high school? Eh, well. Somehow I don't see us being the type of friends that'll keep in touch, anyway, so when I find myself halfway across the world, I can probably stop sweating it. But, it does pose an issue to my hopes of a future with someone. Except, I get disgruntled at the idea of attaching someone to my very individual single life, but maybe that would change once feelings are added to the equation. Do I wish I had those feelings? Not sure. Maybe I do feel differently toward just the one guy.

Will I really work to improve my climbing or playing? Probably not. Will keep climbing for fun, though.

I wish I could write, and write well. I wish I could produce a novel and make big bucks. I wish I were highly eloquent and could make public speaking so natural that I really connected to the audience, and would never again look at it as delivering a speech, but merely as talking to many people all at once, save that I have no desire to pursue a career in public speaking. I wish I were at ease with myself. I wish I were an ace with interviews. I wish I were fluent in about 10 different languages. I wish I could throw knives. I wish I could throw my voice. I wish I could play the piano. I wish I could play the violin, and the guitar, and the zither. I wish I could always know the right thing to say at the right time. I wish I could cook, easily, and whip things up without consideration. I wish I could always be a dependable friend, and entertaining company, and a savvy, trustworthy companion that one would want to take with them if they were stranded on an island, or in the ghetto, because the me-I-wish-I-could-be would know how to handle the situation, anyway, and get everyone out alive.

I wish I were an ace in life.

I wish I were the girl that moved beyond contentment, beyond uncertainty at this temporary pinnacle, and found solid ground, and sturdiness, and happiness.

Greetings! I hope you are doing well. It saddens me at times that we've drifted apart, but it's life. Thanks to facebook, I can still keep a threadlike connection with you. Even though we don't talk anymore, I am grateful that we were once friends, and that I have that friendship in my memory. I wish you the best of luck in your life. =]

Well, this one's easy, because there's only one person that I know who's not in my country that I dislike, and so I can say the nice things to everyone else, but saying negative things is not something you can just write in a letter and send off:

You're an asshole. You always were to me, running hot-cold hot-cold, being an all-around jerk, and in general being a spoiled little kid who still thinks the appropriate way to show affection to a girl is to pull on her pigtails and throw rocks at her. And while I'll admit that you have a sweet streak where you are genuinely a good guy, it is overshadowed by the dominant asinine side of you. You need to get a handle on your emotions and not expect me to be someone I'm not, and not pick a fight with me every single time, just because you think it's fun.

When we parted, I was extremely grateful with the knowledge that I would never have to see you, ever again, and it was that knowledge alone that kept me sane the last few weeks. Then you sent reminders, and, well, okay, I can maintain a civilized relationship with you via cyberspace. But then you went looking for a fight again. Seriously, dude? I don't even need to see your face anymore and you want to fight me online? Over something you don't understand? In a language you don't even speak? So not worth it.

I don't miss one specific person, exactly, but I miss the two of you, as a unit with me. I miss the friendship. I should have known better.

Our house is like a war zone, and I should have taken advantage during peacetime to spend more time with you, make more memories that I could have kept, maybe strengthen a relationship that might not have fallen. Again. I should have known that it wouldn't last, because who knows how long the next battle might take? I regret that. I wish we could have peace again. I wish I had utilized my peacetime properly.