everyone needs their own secret garden, their hidden attic

received this letter via email:

(this was originally a hand-written letter, which I have transcribed here because the letter itself is long gone. It is the first and only love letter I’ve ever written. This was written by a girl, to another girl.)

Dear ___________,

This letter is a little intimidating for me to write now that I’m actually doing it. I’ve written and rewritten it many times in my head for a long time. I decided today that it was time to write this letter because I was thinking idly “If I died today, would I have any regrets?” At first I didn’t think of anything, but then I realized that if I kept waiting to write you and never got around to it, I WOULD regret it, and that regret would far, far overshadow any anxiety or fear I felt at how you would react to a letter like this. I am intimidated, to be honest. The things I want to express run deep, and ways to explain them can be hard to condense out of the vapor of abstract emotions.I want you to know that in the past couple years since leaving high school, every day we had been able to hang out, I always appreciated that time so much. Those minutes were—and are—very precious to me. I’d always try to cling on to each moment, memorize it every time in detail, memories to be treasured and folded away—and unfolded again to be looked at so often, that if they were physically tangible, creases would be worn into them by now.Those memories are so important to me because to me, you mean a lot. You mean a lot to me. I don’t know if that can be overstated. You have had an enormous impact on my life and how I view things. I admire and cherish you. I would go as far as to say I love you. Even saying it makes me feel a little uncomfortable because it’s such a loaded word. If there’s anything I managed to learn in college, love comes in all colors and hues. Mine’s just a quiet, strong affection. It may be that I’m not doing such a good job at explaining myself but the love’s coming from a different kind of place, a place most people probably forgot about.I didn’t interact with you very much in the high school years, and sometimes I play the thought experiment, try to imagine how different things would have been if I had sat next to you in freshman English class, instead of in the corner. You seemed quiet, painfully so. You and I were completely different—but somehow through the years, that seems to have faded away. Maybe I don’t completely know you, the way other people may have used to. But that doesn’t bother me so much. Everyone needs their own secret garden, their hidden attic. What I see of you, I accept. You have flaws. So does everyone else. Sometimes they’re deal-breakers. Sometimes not. It differs from person to person. For me, to me…you, you just are who you are.Usually, when we meet someone new, we’re starting on a blank canvas. Maybe we hit it off, maybe we don’t. But more often than not, the more we get to know them, the less we end up liking them. You know you’ve met someone wonderful when the process is the opposite—the more we learn about them, the more we like them. It was a long time before you and I became friends. It perhaps worked out for the best that way. We had time to grow and change and adjust our perceptions. I’m still growing, definitely.I think you have one of the richest souls I’ve ever had the fortune to meet. I cherish the time we spend together, and I marvel at your patience with me. You have done so much that I am grateful for. The week when you came up to see me in San Francisco is still something I reminisce about often. Even up to the point where I was at the station waiting for you, I didn’t really believe you’d actually be there, on the platform, walking towards me and laughing at the look on my face. In senior year of high school, when I was frazzled and upset about college admission and my upcoming surgery, you were really cool about letting me come chill with you, something we had never done before. I went into surgery the next day feeling marginally less scared shitless. It also meant a lot to me that you kept the letter I sent you from Africa. There’s so many other things, I could go on and on, but it doesn’t seem so necessary now.I haven’t seen you for about two years now. I miss you, and I hope you’re at peace…I hope you’ve found the happiness that eluded you so often when we were younger.