Dear Waltzer,

I like the way you waltz. While you're severing the web of responsibilities that bind you to this earth, this home which you long to leave, sometimes I want to ask you if you could stay this time, hang around a bit, get the feel of the place before you pack up and run off again. It's only been a year, maybe, maybe you should pause to catch your breath for a minute. I mean, it's not like you're going to stick around. Just understand that I need you sometimes, even though we've had our best friend times when you left me in the dark. I just want the best for you. So rest. Rest for your peace and home.

We've had our times. We've fought and hurt and when I say I hate you, I mean I love you. We've both had the egos of the world fall on us and while you left tall and proud I left with a bruised knee and a split lip.

Did it matter? I'm not really sure. I want this to be deep and intense and I also want to be sweet. Sweet is so shallow. Should I conform to those mindless shallow beautiful girls? Or am I just jealous of what I couldn't have? What I still can't have? You know, when someone asks you how, it's absolutely frustrating. Like, how did blah happen? Often, how can't be answered but why and where and when can. It's like you came this far to make it hurt for me, like asking how does your heart beat and why do you breathe? We should know the answer to those questions. Like, why do I breathe? When someone wants to commit suicide, why don't they just hold their breath? Why do they take a knife or a noose or whatever? Because our body has this inexorable urge to breathe. It's hard to explain, but it's true. Go on: Try now to hold your breath. But you'll soon gasp and release the mounting pressure in your chest. It's this inexorable urge. As for how does our heart beat? Sure to keep us alive and stuff. But listen: we don't have a direct control on it, do we? Can you stop your heart pumping blood like you stopped taking in air? Without cutting yourself apart? No. You can't. God withheld this power from us, with good reason. It's detrimental to ourselves.

The same way, when we fight its like I have this inexorable urge to make up but I can't stop the flow of emotions from my head to my mouth. It's the same way you can't ask me how something happened. How is beyond us. It seems like a tightrope in ways. I mean it's like this stretched thing and if you kinda put too much weight on one part it snaps apart and you need a new one. A fresh start, in ways. You should get it. How many times will we burn our bridges for us to make new ways? I contemplate but what the future will bring is so unexpected. I think it begins with a decay on the tightrope and then within and then eventually it all fall apart. Maybe, sometimes, those things aren't meant to be mended. And sometimes they are. But when we fall, each clutching a piece of the tightrope, the tightrope would have neatly split into half, only the very end of it frayed, so we have glorious memories to remember. And even if, years later, our arms are so laden with tightropes and too many tightropes being walked on that we forget that one at the bottom of the pile, it isn't going to matter because it will still be there, waiting to be uncovered. Just waiting..

Maybe I was too intense or deep. I don't want the tightrope to fall. But eventually, when our feet get tired and we need to fall off, or maybe it doesn't break but its so stiff, like we are even now sometimes, with stiff and strained conversation, maybe even if it does break we can rebuild our bridges and make it work, I'll know I'll always have a friend to come to and I want you to know that too.

By the way, did I mention, I like the way you waltz?


Your nemesis, the one you should love to hate but I hope you don't,