First I will note that I fear being melodramatic. Sorry in advance if that is the case. Second, I know if I could that I would scatter this entire page with “im sorry”s for things that probably weren’t even wrongs. So I’m going to get it out now. If it is possible that any of the things I worry I may have done wrong actually were wrong, I’m sorry. That’s a horrible way to start a letter. I am insecure. It’s obvious. I am insecure and fearful, and I’m anxious because of it. I fear “using” you or your friendship with ulterior motives. I fear idolizing you and comparing myself to you in unhealthy ways or using you as the standard with which I beat myself. (sorry for the melodrama.) I fear I don’t know my own heart. I fear that my same-sex attraction will put barriers in our friendship, real or imagined. I fear myself either going too far or being too reserved. I fear scaring you away or causing you harm. We both know that we are both physical people. How the touch of a friend is like a recharging of the soul. I am terrified of abusing that consciously or subconsciously due to same-sex attraction. (Objectively, you are gorgeous, and I know you know that). I fear straining our friendship with insanely high expectations that I should only be expecting from a man I may marry one day. I fear being too selfish, taking and not giving. I fear I will always be too quiet, because in my anxiety my mind goes blank in conversation and I have no clue what to say, until after you drop me off at my dorm when suddenly I think of a million different things I wished I had said. Imagined conversations. I sometimes get the feeling that I am acting like a sick puppy around you and _____, never leaving of my own volition but always waiting to be politely “kicked out”. I fear losing you. I fear drifting away. I fear pushing you away. While I do fear the possibility of putting you on a pedestal and idolizing you, objectively there are many ways in which you excel that I need to take note of. Because you inspire me greatly.
I honestly think you will change many lives (you definitely already have…). I’ve never seen anyone with as much of a genuine passion for life and art and hard work and knowledge as you have. You’ve worked so diligently getting your degree and you already have experience in your field. Hell, you have experience in LIFE. You have concrete plans. You have a vision. You have fire. You have purpose. When I first met you, I was put to shame by the amount of stories you had to share and art you’ve made and people you’ve met and lessons you’ve learned. The students you’ll teach are only going to be better after meeting you. You’ve already taught me a lot, and I’m not even a student of yours. “Can you direct me?” was a shitty nervous joke that I made in my own misunderstanding of what you meant, but it’s actually a great Freudian-slip sort of plea. If I could I would have you direct my life and show me what I’m doing wrong and what I can do instead. You are, inadvertently; I also fear that I am just “copying” you one way or another. My own parents warned me of that. I know I’m capable of disingenuity and being a chameleon. It’s difficult when it seems more and more that I am allowing myself to “like” or be “into” things I held myself back from. Crocheting, braids, updos, earrings, nice clothes, even Christian contemporary music and abstract art – two things I had firmly decided I absolutely hated. You’ve lifted me up to see that I *can* like what I like and you have softened my heart to the things that I thought I totally despised. You are not afraid to be yourself no matter how many people try to tear you down. You learned that lesson early, I think. Another “im sorry” for how slowly I’m learning it. (or maybe you’d tell me I should have a backbone and that growing is nothing to apologize for).
Thank you for being the greatest older sister I never had.