The Dreamer ✓

Letter 01

NO. 1 ;   A LETTER TO YOUR BEST FRIEND 

FEBRUARY 27th, 2013

Dear Somebody,

You know I would have started this letter off with 'dear -insert name here-' but I wanted to write this letter to my best friend and the thought struck me that I don't have a best friend. Yes, I have friends, lots of friends, I'm not saying I'm popular or well-known, it's just I do have quite a few mates. But I realised that I don't have that one best friend. You know, the one you've known all your life, the one who you share your hopes and fears and secrets, the one you trust with your life. I don't have that.

Never did. Probably never will. I guess I just don't do best friends any way. I can't seem to allow myself to be that close to another person. Distance is a good thing for me.

So, I'm going to address this letter to the person who has come closest to being my best friend. And that's you Georgia.

You know where I am right now? I'm sat in our favourite café, the small little coffee shop in the corner of Fairbank Road. I'm sat right in the back, where the lights are low and the music is a mere hum. We used to come here every Friday afterschool, it's still my favourite place in the city. The memories are stronger here than anywhere else, I can smell, taste, touch all the times we sat here, just chatting and laughing whatever mundane matter that came up in our lives. I miss those times, Georgia. I don't know where time has gone, but I know it took you with it.

We didn't really start talking until, what, Year 9? Yeah, Year 9. Back then we were in different friendship groups and it wasn't until Lucy went on holiday and left you by yourself that we started hanging out.

You were quiet and shy with a kind smile and warm brown eyes and I was brash and loud and dirty-minded. And you always say that I polluted your mind. That before me, you were innocent and practically ignorant to the atrocities of the world. And then I opened your eyes, I slowly eased you into the world of crude jokes and cynicism.

As the years went by and we grew older, the jokes and brashness that was first nature for me, became second nature to you, but you were still shy. Even now, you still have that hesitancy you had when we first met.

You're an introvert.

To others you're quiet and timid and smiling but it's only when you're around me, around people you're comfortable with that you come out of your shell and you show just how brilliant you are. You know, you were favourite person when we were in secondary school? Even though you're three days younger than me (you always insisted that you would have been two weeks older if you hadn't had arrived late), I sort of looked up to you (literally, you're five foot nine). Cause you were one of the few people I was truly comfortable around.

You didn't remind me of my insecurities and my inadequacy at practically everything. We had the same flaws you and I. We silently acknowledged them and saluted ourselves for them. Well, perfection is overrated isn't it? Imperfection is underrated and you and I were way past imperfect.

You know, I thought (I still do) think you're the funniest and most genuine person I had ever met.

Some days, you would piss me off. You would piss me off so much I would wish I never knew you, but when I next saw you the anger would instantly vanish and I couldn't for the life of me remember why I was angry with you. You were the only person who could get away with that kind of murder, Georgia. Others would have been ten feet in the ground but you were always ten feet higher.