The Horizon

I can't remember any of the words you said to me back then, it was so long ago. It was maybe 15 years ago I remember laying in my bed, asleep, recapitulating the events of our last lifetime together. Flashbacks of the love that only you and I can remember. You were so beautiful then, I bet you still are. I was younger than I am now, but older than I was when I had this dream.

The day we met I remember there were no words. Words would have put waste to the emotions that were welling up inside. Words are great for putting away the fears that all animals have: Why are you here? Why are you looking at me? Are you kind? Are you going to hurt me? Do you know how to help me? Will you stay with me? When I saw you walking towards me all of those questions were somehow already answered; so why use words to convince myself further? There was no hello, the only hint you gave me was when you stopped very close to me to let me know that you did in fact notice me. I was quite sure that someone as beautiful as you would either be on her way to something or someone else, but you weren't. Thanks for that, it's all I needed. I tried to look you in the eyes, I felt as though I at least owe you this gesture in return for yours, but I couldn't. The sky opened and the sun poured in from behind you. As your frontside began to silhouette, your hair shined with a certain radiance that I couldn't ignore. I peered outwards behind you towards your left cheek and for a moment caught a glimpse of the horizon peering out from behind the acres of tallgrass. It was at this moment that I realized the sky has finally reached down to meet the ground. The horizon was now not a mundane academic concept but rather an analogy for this moment of truth, the day we met.

We met again a few nights later. Laying again in my bed, face up, looking at an ever-puzzling pattern on my ceiling that looked like a face when I opened only my right eye and looked like a dog when I opened them both, I near fell asleep with the lights on. My eyes closed and opened fighting to solve the optical illusion. Once more my eyes closed and opened and there we were, walking along the shore of the stream. Again you had no words for me, but this time that was not a comforting thought. Your head down as you paced along the shore with me hovering over your left shoulder, you wouldn't look at me, I wouldn't have the opportunity or desire to be distracted by the sun that was extremely hot this day. Perfect for the lilacs on the other side of the pond but hardly the weather for our discussion. It's been so long now, maybe a few months even. We've talked about it, which maybe is the problem to begin with. I can't wait any longer, even though I told you I would wait an eternity for you. I meant it when I said it, I really did, but I forgot what an eternity feels like. That's really the difference between us, you know. You keep fighting for eternity and I keep fighting for now. I didn't know how else to convince you that we were meant for each other so I made all sorts of promises about being there for you no matter what, no matter when. Now you want all of those promises even more than you want me.

All I ever wanted was you. You didn't have too promise me anything, so you didn't. Now I want confirmation. I'm a man so I demand it, because that's easier than asking for it. Nope, I won't take no for an answer, because a no would absolutely destroy me. I need you to do this for me, for us. You owe it to me and I want it so bad. If you and I are really a couple than you'll do it. It doesn't matter what your parents told you or what your friends might think, it's natural.

Still hovering over your shoulders with all these demands one can imagine why you just want to walk away. It hurts you, every demand makes you question who this monster is beside you. This isn't the man you saw leaning confidently at work that afternoon in the field of tallgrass, peering out northwards with his chin held high as though perched up against his achievements. This man beside you is groveling! What's worse is he's either too proud or too ashamed (if there's a difference) to admit that he's begging. If he can change so quickly how could you possibly see yourself with him for your whole life?

Once again, she lets me into her life simply by stopping. Thank goodness there was a small bench here by the pond for all of the older folk who like to feed the ducks. We've decided to talk things through.

I didn't mean to pressure you. You're right, I guess. We have all the time in the world. Who cares if today is the day or tomorrow or next week. Irony is, I guess the only reason why I want this to happen now is it'll make me feel like we have an eternity together too. See, I always figure that you're doing something or you're doing nothing. And see, if we're doing nothing than maybe that means our relationship has stopped. Maybe we aren't really together like I wanted. But, if we did this then I would know for sure we're a couple, a mighty fine one.

The beauty of the sky is her formlessness. All the ideas people come up with as they stare up at her, day and night. She knows it's hard for us to make up such ideas out of nothing so she gives us clouds and stars to hang our ideas against while we turn them into words. Nonetheless, everything that is beautiful about our maiden the sky is intangible. The ground, on the other hand, is a very pragmatic fellow. His allure stems from his strength, his size, and the beauty of forms that exist against his landscape. Valleys, mountains, forests, fields and man made contraptions are awesome because of their forms. The beauty of the ground is tangible.

Here we are again finding each other at the horizon. Sometimes words are a waste but they're the best we've got, us men. You can appreciate that. I was just being honest earlier when I told you about how I felt. Maybe you didn't even really listen to the words; you hardly do ever care about form. But you definitely felt my honesty - honesty is tangible too. You looked up at my eyes and saw that they were always looking at yours, even when you had them turned away from me. Sitting there on the bench looking at me, seeing that nothing else matters to me but you, convinced you more than my words ever could. I can spend an eternity or more with you and only you, all you have to do is remind me now and again that you're still here, as I tend to forget. All of a sudden a feeling welled up within you that is very familiar to me. A feeling to express everything you feel for me without words. We stood up from our bench of understanding and your eyes looked up at mine and then forwards towards my chest. My eyes followed yours downwards and as I stroked the back of your right ear I knew that in spite of my prior forcefulness you were now ready to joyfully submit. Today you were ready to give me everything I asked for. And you did. Right there, beside the pond, as the sun reached down and gently glazed against the ripples in the water, I leaned in towards you and gave me the kiss I always wanted and would never forget.

Someone must have turned off my light as I was asleep because I woke up that morning to the soft ray of light that entered my room at daybreak, better rested than I ever had been before. I had no words for myself that morning. I opened my window to peek my head outside as I often liked to do. As I took a deep breath in I heard you whisper to me through the sky that you would come find me in this life, and that I should have things ready for you when you did. The other day I found myself leaning confidently at work, filled with memories from you and words for you, peering out at the horizon. And just then I think I saw you.

10 Years - Undelivered

How do you sum up 10 years? You don’t when it’s 10 years like ours. The way I am with words, it would probably take me more than 10 years to tell you my version of Our Story this decade. All I want to do here is let you know how much you’ve meant to me over the last 10 years, so please don’t get insulted that it all fits on one sheet. I hate saying best friend, I try not to rate friends but it’s natural. When you and I met it was a natural fit, and I didn’t expect it to be. You know I’ve got a bit of that shyness, and I thought I was going to have to get Mark or Devang to introduce us formally. But it just happened. Can you even remember what our first words were? I think our entire friendship has been spontaneous, not just the McDonald’s runs. You are my best friend, and sometimes you seem to wonder why, so I’ll remind you the way it was told to both of us. You are an Enzyme, my catalyst, responsible for lowering the activation energy (the massive negative energy that must first be overcome) so that I can go on with my life and perform tasks at a million times the rate than if you were never there to help. As we learned in OAC you follow the “lock and key” model and change your structure to lock into my active site and you have an innate sense on how to increase my activation rate. Now, some enzymes are known to break down under certain circumstances (most notably, temperature) but it doesn’t take away from the fact that once united, we became an instant fit for one another, and I could never replace you for a younger or shapelier enzyme. I remember when we used to talk for hours and you would thank me for giving you the forum and the compassion to let you say all that you had spinning up there. You made me start to think that maybe I don’t do my fair share of talking in this partnership. Maybe I’m too closed. But in those times, I needed to listen, I needed to develop ideas. Now I talk too much, look at me rambling, and you seamlessly went along with it and now you’re my ear, my audience, during these times where I need to sell ideas more than develop them. You’re always there for me. The first time I called you, you didn’t pick up. I biked to your house to drop off your gift and your Dad punked me and didn’t let me know that you were actually just sleeping. I can’t remember a time since when you haven’t picked up, when you didn’t shoot back with 10 msn messages or 5 texts or 6 google wave invites. You are dedication. You manifest it. Seriously, who asks to be the Godmother of my future kid while I’m eating chicken, in my early 20s, and single? Though I met you with sarcasm, as is my nature, I understood and appreciated this gesture more than you ever knew: For whatever reason, you are determined to be the rock in my life that I can turn to, even when I am unable to turn to you myself. Other people might find it hard to describe why you and I are such good friends, and I’ll be honest I’ve had my fair share of practice, I’ve been asked. I find it easy to describe, like a self-evident truth: We are friends because we were meant to be. Even in matters of faith, I turn to your friendship to rekindle the idea that certain items in life were set down on the table for us before the meal was served; you and I were always meant to meet. Even when we are not physically together, you and I live and play in each other’s head. A brief confession: Sometimes you’ll start a story with, “Remember I was telling you about….” And I said, “Uh huh.” I was lying. You never told me that story, it wasn’t me. You thought you did, but you didn’t. You maybe meant to tell me, but you didn’t. You may have even told me the story in your head, and that’s probably where I heard it. That’s why I don’t skip a beat with you; I was thinking it when you were thinking it. It’s easy for either of us to open up to one another because we’ve both spent a lot of time in each other’s library; all of our books are open to each other. And whenever my books are scattered, I know I can turn to you to arrange them back into the proper dui-decimal order. I believe you have extensive training in this.

Now, it wouldn’t be fair to tell you everything that I have felt for you without telling you everything that I have felt for you. Don’t worry, I still know the rules. One day a long time ago I asked you, “So what would it take to convince your parents for you to date a black guy?” And you said, “For me to date a fucking black guy, he would have to be a fucking superstar!” At the time I was thinking “superstar = superstar sister = aerostar = Van; Van = eldest sister” because I’m bad with names. But I got the point, as you can see it has stuck with me. At the same time, over the last 9 years, yes 9 years, understanding how you feel has made me feel like I’m not a superstar, not worthy of your love. And with everything I’ve said above about the strength of our friendship, it’s been hard for me at many different times to come to terms with not being worthy of your love. The stronger our friendship grows, the less of a superstar I feel like, and as we approach 10 years of friendship it’s starting to look like our friendship is not going to stop growing, but I need a way to feel like a superstar in your eyes and mine. So please, after 10 years of holding up the white flag for our friendship, let me have a few minutes to tell you a story you’ve already heard. It was 9 years ago, we were both sitting down, I was in my element chatting with others but I glanced over and quickly saw that you weren’t in yours. You scurried around asking everyone else something that I couldn’t hear with my ears, but when your mind is on something so is mine. I got down on my knees and reached under the table, and there it was, in the dark, but to me it was shining gold. I reached towards it with a bit of urgency, I couldn’t believe that you didn’t even tell me it was lost but I found it, and I was going to be the hero who gave it to you. I got off my knees, brushed off the dust bunnies and walked over to you. “Hey Name, I found your camera!” That’s when it happened. You actually lit up, jumped towards me with a huge bear hug. And then, as if to let me know that this was no quick gesture, you kissed me softly, right here. I melted. A slow song started to play at that moment. You asked me if I wanted to dance. Did I say any words? You’ll have to tell me how the rest of that night went because when that song ended I was still lost in 3 minutes prior. For 9 years I’ve still been lost in that moment. Just recently I asked you a question I already knew the answer to: I asked you why you think I’m still single, and you said, “I don’t think you know what you want.” Close, but wrong. I’ve always known. I wanted that kiss. They’ve always known. I heard once, a woman always knows when she looks into the eyes of her lover, and sees someone else. Before I heard this quote I agreed with it, because when I had my first time, she knew I didn’t want it to be with her, and that’s why she asked me why you and I never hooked up. She saw it in my eyes. They all have. So have you. Sooner or later they’ve known that I can’t convince myself yet that they are the one for me. And when you see yourself in my eyes you always look away, which is why we tend to have amazing conversations in a car or while walking in the same direction, trying to face something else. Parking lots are our friend. So why tell you this hear and now? Trust me, I’ve tried to tell you several times before. I have a myriad of anecdotes around sharing my inner dialogue with you over the last 9 years, which I would love to share with you over the next 9 years, but I didn’t write this to be anecdotal. Like these fucking clowns who had the nerve to tell you the words that they don’t even understand, but I have always meant: I love you. Clayton, Walter, Kunal. I only mention these names here so you know who I am talking about, and who I am not talking about. Anyway, I wrote this because this is the only gift I could possibly think of giving you to celebrate both the 10 special years we’ve shared together, and also the many better years I want to share with you. (Half-truth: I also saw this necklace at Peoples with 2 dolphins on it that reminded me of Valencia). I wrote this because I want to stop asking you the questions I already know the answer to. I wrote this because I want to stop asking myself the questions I don’t want to know the answers to. I wrote this because if I didn’t write it down, I would ramble. I wrote this because I want to stop lying to you.

Not too long ago, you asked me a question that I already knew the answer to. But because our friendship has had me committed to lying, I didn’t tell you the truth. After O Noir, we were driving in a parking lot, good timing, and you asked me a question that in romance movies you would’ve asked me beneath the stars: How can you ever know if you’ve found the one, is there really anything more to love? For me, the answer was easy. If it doesn’t at least feel like the kiss you gave me at the edge of the dance floor after I found your camera for you at Grade 12 prom, then it’s not the one. But if it does, you’re probably on the right track. Maybe you’ve found that kiss, or maybe very shortly you’ll discover you’ve found that kiss. Maybe I’ll find that kiss again, unlocking me yours. Maybe you can help unlock me from your kiss. One day, after you’ve read or thought of this message again and you understand that everything is still good between us, you can take me by surprise and give me a soft kiss on this side, complete the circuit, so that I’m not still being shocked by the first kiss. Until then, all I can hope for is that you still want to take care of my babies if I flee the country, because this message only makes our friendship stronger. Not only is our friendship magnificent and pre-determined, but now it is also the truth. Happy Anniversary! I love you.