I never really thought that this would happen.
Actually, I lied.
For some time, the idea had been floating in my mind, but with so many other things going on in my life at that time, I never really gave it much of a second thought.
It started out simple: we had known each other from school. We only had one class together (two, if you count summer), and what had surprised me was that we were from neighboring towns back at home. I was also happy to learn later that we shared a love for poetry and John Keats. ❤
However, we weren’t really that close until we somehow got back in touch over December last year, when I had wished you a “happy birthday” on Facebook. That one little well-wish turned into a conversation on poetry, which then turned into months of regular correspondence online. We had come up with the idea of sending each other our poems through these exchanges, reading and suggesting ways of improving them. Granted, you were too preoccupied with med school to send yours regularly, but I understood; nevertheless, I always looked forward to your poems whenever they came.
June came around, and I graduated from college. By then, we had been keeping in touch for six months. Considering that you were back in town from medical school, as well as the fact that we lived within five miles of each other and that we both had nothing to do that summer, we decided to meet up to catch up and discuss poetry. We made a plan to meet halfway, at the milk tea shop not-too-far from my home (as well as yours).
We met up, and it felt so good to see you again. Conversation flowed easily; you were pleasant to talk to, able to follow my thoughts and weird sense of humor. 😛
That first day of seeing each other again turned into regular meet-ups in July. We met up almost every week to read poems to each other, as well as give critiques on them. We moved our meeting spots to places like the beach, the park, even the café. With so much time in the summer, we were able to hang out consistently.
Summer ended early for you, since you had to return to Europe for medical school in August. You left, and we resumed our contact through Facebook, back to a couple of months of occasional exchanges via Messenger (sometimes every few days, while others entire weeks). It was amazing that we were able to get in so much poetry during the four to six weeks that we saw each other. You even thanked me for having been inspired to pick up writing regularly again- I was thankful that you felt that way. 🙂
It’s interesting to me that you’ve always seemed like a cheerful, easy-going person whenever we met up. But after these months of talking to you, I know now that you also have struggles. That you’re not happy with med school, that it is not for you, despite your desire to do it for your parents, for yourself. You are miserable, despite the fact that you have the great opportunity to study abroad in Europe. Saying that doing this for another five, seven years isn’t “sustainable,” but having nowhere else to go if you decide to quit.
I wanted to tell you that it was okay for you to do what you really want to do, even if it meant dropping out. You even told me that you admired the fact that I had the courage to pursue what I wanted (i.e. going from Sciences to English while in college) despite the hardship, and in the end having my parents be fine with it. You were unsure of whether you could do the same, since you had already come so far.
Early October rolled around, and you finally did it: you made the decision to leave med school. Although I was slightly surprised, I was happy for you, and still am; I can hope that, despite the uncertainty surrounding your future now, things will work out and you will find something that you will enjoy doing.
That being said, from all of these past ten months of having talked with you, I am beginning to wonder if I like you…in that way. I admit that I get way too easily attached to people I know, and you are no exception. You are only a channel away, and you have expressed that you would like to come to France, perhaps to visit. A long shot, maybe, but for some reason, that idea gives me butterflies.
Is this normal?
I do consider you as a friend, but…just a friend? One who I think about constantly? Who I wouldn’t mind spending time with often? Someone who I would be happy to host in my flat and have more conversations about poetry and our love for John Keats?
I don’t know.
Just like what you have said to me, I have been thinking a lot about you lately, and I am not sure if this is standard. Perhaps it’s just due to the fact that you’ve been struggling for a long time, and now things are greatly changing. Maybe it’s just that. But until we talk again, I am left in the dark.
— The Finicky Cynic
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